


The Master Stitches

by Nicor_Fyrweorm



Series: Last of the Time Lords [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alien Time Lords (Doctor Who), Character Death, Gen, Help, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jack Harkness Has Issues, Post-The Year that Never Was (Doctor Who), Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Characters Do What They Want, The Master Has Issues (Doctor Who), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time War Angst (Doctor Who), Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicor_Fyrweorm/pseuds/Nicor_Fyrweorm
Summary: Torchwood wanted to find a way to fix the problem without anyone killing each other first. Amy and Rory wanted to keep a secret while keeping everyone safe. Jack wanted to get rid of the Master before he was driveninsane.Koschei just wanted… He wanted… What was it again?Or the one where things gets fixed but still stay broken… and where things get better yet worse at the same time.
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams, Gwen Cooper & Team Torchwood, Jack Harkness & Team Torchwood, Jack Harkness & The Doctor, Jack Harkness & The Master, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, The Master & Amy Pond (Doctor Who), The Master & Rory Williams
Series: Last of the Time Lords [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1511825
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	The Master Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> **Graphic** death. I couldn't stop them, I swear I tried…

It's not that Gwen's coffee is bad, but when compared to Ianto's, it lacks a certain _something._ Then again, _everyone's_ coffee lacks a certain something when compared to Ianto's coffee. 

That doesn't stop Gwen from trying, though. Tosh certainly seems to appreciate it, if her smile is anything to go by. 

“Thank you,” she tells Gwen as she accepts the cup, looking at Jack's office almost unconsciously. 

The curtains are closed. Whatever it is Jack and Ianto are talking about, they're quiet enough not to attract unwanted attention, despite the way everyone keeps glancing up. 

“What do you think that is all about?” Tosh asks carefully, knowing as well as Gwen that they shouldn't pry, but then again, today has been weirder than usual. 

The day they found the first body was weird. It was supposed to be nothing but a Weevil, the spike in Rift activity couldn't be anything else, and yet, the body was obviously _not_ a victim of a Weevil. They spent all day investigating, digging through the archives, checking the area, trying to find a match for the victim… All in vain. When nothing happened the next day, and another spike of Rift activity resulted in the expected Weevil, Tosh theorized the victim could have been someone caught in the Rift, not too far in the past or the future, judging by the clothing, who hadn't had the same luck the passengers of the _Sky Gypsy_ had. 

And then, they found another body. 

After that, the week had gone from weird to frustrating, finding _no clues_ as to what was going on, and with even Jack, with all his future knowledge and experience, completely in the dark. 

Until today. 

Gwen can't help but look towards the couch, where their three 'guests' are. The Master is lying down on it, wrapped in a thick blanket, and with his head on Amy's lap, who is stroking his hair softly as she converses with Rory, sitting on the small table in front of the couch. 

The Master had collapsed a couple seconds after telling them the 'Time War' was returning, which had snapped Jack out of his shock. They'd decided to go to the Hub and figure things out once there, and so here they are now. 

Owen is performing the autopsy of their latest body, though he has already told them that he doesn't expect much. Tosh is running more analysis on the peaks of Rift activity that resulted in bodies, as well as the one in the alley. Gwen is supposed to be helping her with that, checking the cameras using different settings now that they know it was that black mist thing the one responsible, but she really needed the coffee. 

And, seeing how Ianto is busy talking to Jack, that meant she had to make it herself. 

“I met him, once,” Tosh tells her with a smile, looking at the trio on the couch. “This Doctor they keep talking about. Jack's Doctor.” 

“You did?” Gwen asks before she can stop herself, startled and _extremely_ curious. 

The only thing Jack ever says about him is that he's 'the right kind of doctor', which is nothing and yet everything at the same time. 

Not a medical doctor, or any other kind of academic, but a doctor of time travel and temporal phenomena. A Doctor who needs, or has, no name. Just like Saxon, this 'Master' with no name. 

“Do you remember the spaceship that crashed into the Big Ben, back in 2006?” Tosh asks her, and Gwen feels her eyes go wide as she answers with an incredulous smile. “Well, it actually _was_ a hoax. Only, it was aliens who orchestrated the hoax.” 

“Why would _aliens_ fake aliens?” Gwen asks, frowning yet still unable to fully wipe off her incredulous smirk. 

“To take over 10 Downing Street and destroy the Earth, apparently,” Owen answers as he joins them, unbothered by the way the women startle. “That's what it says in the UNIT reports, at least. Not sure _what_ happened, exactly, since all of their experts died, but that's what they got out of Harriet Jones,” he adds, accepting his own cup of coffee with a nod before taking a sip. 

“And the Doctor was there?” Gwen asks Tosh as Owen leans on the desk by their side, as enthralled as she is. 

“Yes, he was. I was called in from Torchwood while they flew in the UNIT experts, to look over the body of the 'alien'.” 

“The Space Pig,” Owen snorts, and Tosh laughs while Gwen looks between them in confusion. 

“The what?” 

“It was a pig,” Tosh explains, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she shifts her gaze away from Owen's roguish grin. “The 'alien' was actually a pig. Someone had augmented it using technology, rewired its brain. I'd x-rayed its skull and assumed it was an alien, because the technology looked like nothing I'd ever seen before. I put it in a cooler in the mortuary to show the people from UNIT, but it revived in the middle of the night and broke out of it. It startled me so badly that I fell and hit my head against a table,” she tells them, slightly embarrassed as she traces a line on her temple where the old injury had been, though her excitement quickly covers it. “I screamed, lost sight of the alien. And then, this man just bursts into the room, a whole platoon of red berets following him, and starts barking orders.” 

“The Doctor,” Gwen whispers, earning a nod from Tosh before she looks at the couch, Gwen following her line of sight. 

“The Master, he's actually wearing his leather jacket. He reminds me a lot of the Doctor, but maybe it's a Time Lord thing. The Doctor had been like that too, you know? He'd been so focused on the mission, but when he realized the 'alien' was still in the room with us, he'd ordered one of the soldiers to stay by my side while he approached it. And he was so _gentle._ The pig ran away, scared, and when he followed, he was shouting 'don't shoot it',” Tosh adds before her smile turns into something more somber. “They shot it. I think the soldiers were as scared as the pig. But the Doctor… He was _sad._ He was so sad, even if it turned out it was just an ordinary pig someone had modified to have it pass for an alien. It was just _a pig._ But he had been so sad…” 

“That's what Rory said,” Gwen says out loud as she remembers that disjointed retelling of what actually happened with the whole Prisoner Zero thing. “The Doctor called the aliens back and told them everyone is important. And the Master obviously cares about his friends. Did you see his face when he started calling for Amy?” 

“And the way Jack admires the Doctor. Though, I have to admit I'm confused about the whole face-changing thing,” Owen adds, frowning into his coffee before meeting their eyes. “Remember what Jack said? How, unlike _someone,_ he doesn't change his face?” 

“Well…” Tosh starts, hesitating visibly, and, as one, all three chance a look at the office to make sure neither Jack nor Ianto are coming. “Remember when he was flickering? When he was attacked by that temporal void thing? One of the faces… I think one of the faces was that of _my_ Doctor. The one with the leather jacket? His hair was short and dark then, like the Doctor I met.” 

“Do you think he meant that _literally?_ Not as, you know, a disguise?” Gwen asks, startled, while Owen shrugs. 

“So, he's a shapeshifter. How do we even know he's this Master Jack thinks he is then?” 

“How do we know he's not actually the Doctor? Jack said he was quoting _someone,_ and the way he reacted…” 

“Why would _anyone,_ Master or Doctor, take the face of Harold Saxon? The blond hair and the stubble don't make him any less recognizable,” Gwen points out, looking at where Amy and Rory seem to be arguing softly over the unconscious alien's head. 

“He thought it was 2006,” Owen points out. 

“And he did say he hadn't chosen that face… Does that mean he can't change it now?” Tosh adds, frowning softly despite the way her eyes shine in interest. 

“Do you think we can ask them? They said they couldn't tell us things because they are from the future, but we won't be asking about the future,” Gwen suggests, and, after exchanging a look, Owen pushes off the desk while Tosh picks up her cup with an excited grin. 

“The scans are running, and we have everything else saved so the Master can check it over once he's feeling better,” she tells them after a couple clicks to make sure, while Owen grabs a kit from his own desk. 

“And if we want to make sure he gets better, it's time for me to check up on him, alien or not,” Owen adds as he leads the way to the sofa, with Gwen picking up the tray with the coffee pot and the teapot on it, hoping they're still hot. 

Amy frowns at them, suspicious, while Rory carefully stands up to confront them. 

“Uh, is everything alright?” he asks them, and Owen answers by lifting his kit to eye level. 

“Just here to check up on our patient. Still unconscious? Any changes?” Owen asks as Rory steps aside, kneeling by the Master's side under Amy's scrutiny. 

“Actually, yes. We're not sure what to make of it,” Rory answers with a grimace, and Gwen hurries to his side to offer him anything on the tray. “Ah, some tea would be great, thank you.” 

“He has a fever,” Amy confesses with a sigh, worry taking over her suspicion, as Owen rests the back of his hand on the Master's forehead. “I know it doesn't look like it, but his normal temperature is usually cool. And now…” 

“Now, he seems to be at a perfectly normal thirty-seven degrees. If he was human, I'd say he's healthy,” Owen finishes for her, carefully lifting the blanket off the Master before he opens his kit. “Anything else?” 

“He… I don't know what to call it, but he was making this… _chirping_ before, but not anymore. I thought that meant he'd fallen asleep, but maybe it was the fever?” Amy tells them, though the way her voice wavers, it almost makes it sound like a question. 

“Chirping? Do you think it was an alien language?” Tosh asks, quietly excited, and Amy and Rory exchange a hesitant look. 

“Maybe?” he finally answers with a shrug, running a hand through his hair. “The Doctor told us the TARDIS translates alien languages straight into your brain. And she has never failed before… Though, apparently, she doesn't translate swear words.” 

“The TARDIS is a she? I thought it was your ship. Box. Box-thing,” Gwen asks, giving words to Owen's hum, who's trying to listen to the Master's hearts. 

“She's both,” Amy answers this time, grinning. “The TARDIS is the Doctor's ship, disguised as a police box. She's alive, and she's actually bigger on the inside.” 

“It's a different dimension,” Rory adds when he sees their incredulous looks, and, after a moment reminding herself of all the things she's seen, from sex gas aliens to the Devil itself, Gwen decides to just nod and move on. 

“Right. So, who's he? I mean really, _truly._ Harold Saxon, Harry Smith, the Master?” she asks, nodding towards the blond alien, and then, exchanging a look with Tosh, decides to take one more guess. “The Doctor?” 

The way both Amy and Rory snap to her at that last one, wide-eyed like deer caught in the headlights, is all the answer Gwen needs. 

“I knew it!” Tosh exclaims softly, looking back at the office to make sure it's still closed. 

“Uh, no, he's not the Doctor. Why would you think he's the Doctor?” Amy asks, trying her best at a blank face, but her slightly widened eyes and the way Rory shifts in his spot without meeting their eyes give them away. 

“I met the Doctor two years ago, and he reminds me so much of him. All gruff and snarky, ordering people around, yet caring so deeply at the same time… What I don't understand is how he changed his face, his whole _body._ He used to be taller,” Tosh explains without hesitation, and, finally, their guests give up the charade. 

“Alright, he is, but don't tell Captain Hotness over there. The whole thing with keeping the timelines intact is really serious,” Amy concedes, glaring them all into nods of agreement. 

“Did you seriously call Captain Harkness 'Captain Hotness'?” Rory asks with a grimace, and Gwen snickers when she registers that, with Tosh turning away to hide her smile and Owen snorting with a grin. 

“Tell me you hadn't thought it too.” 

“I— _No!_ Of course not! I love _you,_ and I'm straight!” 

“Then why was the Doctor talking about—” 

“Can we _not_ talk about that again? You said so yourself, he loves messing with people!” Rory protests, blushing madly, but Amy's already grinning, satisfied with his reaction. 

“He has that effect on people,” Gwen tells Rory, deciding to cheer the poor man up. 

“Captain Harkness or the Doctor?” he asks instead, and, this time, she can't help but laugh softly. 

“I was going to say Jack, but I guess the Doctor too,” she answers, looking to Amy, who nods with a fake sagely expression. 

Owen sits back on his heels, wrapping his kit up, and the banter dies as they turn to him. 

“All looks clear. His breathing is a bit strained, and then there's the fever, but I'd say his body is dealing with it on its own. Without knowing more about his species, it's a bit difficult to be sure, though.” 

“And without the TARDIS to help along, that's the best we can do,” Amy adds with a sigh, going back to petting the Doctor's hair. “He always does this, you know. He's always getting in trouble to keep people safe.” 

“Is that how he got the scars?” Owen asks softly, looking up for a moment from the bandaged hand he's looking over for any bloodstains. 

“Yes. The Daleks, these aliens that look like giant peppershakers, convinced Churchill they were war machines to help him defeat the Nazis. They wanted to get the Doctor's attention to revive their race, and… They did it. The Doctor almost blew them up, but he had to come back to Earth to defuse a bomb instead, and they got away. History can change, but some things need to happen. It didn't matter who won the war or how, but Earth couldn't be destroyed. So, please, don't tell Captain Jack about who he really is,” she explains, and, more solemn, all three Torchwood operatives nod. 

“What about this 'Master' Jack thinks he actually is? How come the Doctor has his face now?” Tosh asks softly, cradling her cup close to her chest, and Amy and Rory grimace. 

“He was… He was the Doctor's best friend. He died in his arms,” Amy answers simply, looking down at the slight frown on the alien's face, which she tries to smooth with one hand. “His planet is gone, his people dead. There was this war with the Daleks, and both sides were obliterated. Only the Doctor survived, but… He blames himself for it, he says _he_ destroyed Gallifrey, and so he doesn't want to be called the Doctor anymore. For him, the Doctor is dead,” she adds softly, but to Gwen's confusion, she smiles hopefully a moment later, looking up to meet everyone's eyes. “But we met this woman in the future, River Song. She knows the Doctor in _his_ future, and she said he'll get better, that he'll be the Doctor again. We just need to stay by his side, and remind him he can _be_ the Doctor.” 

“It actually works. We came from Sicily, back in Ancient Greece, where these alien snakes had crash-landed after their planet was destroyed. One of them suffered a genetic condition, and the mother started turning the men of the polis into hybrids to try to find a cure. We didn't know that, though, we thought she wanted to take over the island or something, and that she fed the men she took to her second daughter, but the Doctor figured it out. Sure, he had to be thrown into a whirlpool first, but then he managed to get both armies to stand down without a single drop of blood being shed. He really saved everyone there,” Rory explains with a grin, and even _Owen_ looks impressed, with Gwen and Tosh exchanging awed smiles. 

“If you don't give up, if you keep _believing,_ the most amazing things can come true,” Amy adds, though her proud smile turns sad when she looks down at the Doctor. “That's how he defeated Saxon, the _actual_ Saxon. It's a Time Lord trick, he can turn your hope and belief into energy that he can then use to change the present. As far as I understand it, he can see many possible futures, and he can use that energy to take what he wants from _any_ of them, or from many different ones, or even to change the present so that the future changes too.” 

“Is that what he did with the thing in the alley? The, what did they call it, temporal void? Neverwere?” Gwen asks, and Amy opens her mouth before a violent shudder and a whine from the Doctor startles her, her hand quickly gripping his shoulder to keep him from falling, even as both Owen and Rory reach for him. 

He's grimacing in pain, twisting under the blanket and gasping, though, after some soft reassurances from Amy, he slowly calms down. 

Owen immediately checks his temperature again, and, when he grimaces, Gwen takes off to get some ice even before he has to ask. 

“What we need is Jack,” Tosh is saying when Gwen returns with a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a towel. “He managed to stabilize him, get him to focus. His immortality was helping him _heal.”_

“Do _you_ want to barge in there and tell him that? As far as he knows, this guy here is the bastard that tortured him for a year, and not the man who saved him. Besides, I bet ten quid Jack's done telling Ianto the Doctor is not the dangerous criminal from the files and they're shagging on the desk now.” 

“ _Owen!”_

“Fine, twenty quid. A pizza? I bet you a pizza, that's my final offer.” 

“And _I_ bet you a pizza Jack is _still_ calming Ianto down. Ianto worked in Canary Wharf, and the Doctor was apparently responsible for the whole Cybermen invasion thing. Remember _Lisa?”_ Gwen interrupts, dropping the ice in Owen's lap, who curses before picking it up with a glare that she answers with an unrepentant wink. “Any news?” 

“Other than more chirping, nothing,” Amy answers, her amused grin dying as she adjusts the ice bag Owen gives her on the Doctor's forehead. 

He deflates with a sigh, shuddering one more time before settling down. Gwen understands why they insist on calling the sounds 'chirping' now, hearing them herself. They're oddly layered, like a bunch of different sounds spoken at the same time, in the same second, though some of them go on for longer, sounding more like an oddly musical warbling that seems to play over itself before fading. Like a wave bouncing off the wall of the pool, collapsing over itself as it rolls over its own trail. 

“Are you sure this isn't a language? It sounds really complex to be just odd sounds,” she asks, sitting on one of the chairs someone has put around the sofa while she was retrieving the ice cubes. 

“We don't know. With the TARDIS gone, it can just be that there's no one to translate it,” Rory says yet again, though he doesn't sound annoyed at his having to repeat himself. 

“Or maybe… He told me that Gallifreyan, the language of the Time Lords, doesn't translate. Not even the TARDIS can translate it,” Amy adds, looking down at the alien on her lap with realization. “Maybe he's doing what he did in the alley, quoting the past, only it's of his time back with other Time Lords.” 

“It's a beautiful language,” Tosh whispers, smiling in awe, and Gwen can't help but agree. 

“It's a mess of a language. It's like he's speaking whole sentences at once. No wonder no one can translate it,” Owen huffs, taking his own chair and grimacing as he sips from his cold coffee. 

“How can it be possible for someone to speak many sentences at once?” Gwen asks with a frown, looking down at the alien. “I mean, _we_ can't, and he doesn't look any different from a human.” 

“He has two hearts.” 

“ _Still.”_

“Alien,” Rory points out, completely calm and unbothered, and Gwen finally gives up, chuckling. 

“Is that going to become your default answer to everything?” Amy asks him suspiciously, and, eyes widening in a clear _uh-oh,_ he hurries to sip from his tea to avoid having to answer, though he grimaces a moment later when he realizes his drink has gone cold. “Right, whatever. So, what happens now?” 

The door of Jack's office opens, and both him and Ianto step out. Their clothes are _not_ ruffled, Ianto looks like he's been forced to swallow a lemon but decided he can live with that, and Jack is smiling tiredly. 

“You owe me a pizza, Owen.” 

“Yeah, no shit. Right, anyone else?” 

And, completely shamelessly, everyone delivers their orders for their favorites, to Owen's chagrin. 

“Could we get a large one with lots of meat? He'll probably be famished when he wakes up,” Amy adds after Owen's done writing them all down on a piece of paper he retrieved from his desk, even Jack's and Ianto's. “And, since he can eat a lot on a normal meal, I really don't want to see what he can do this time.” 

“Sure, why not. Extra-large meat lovers for the alien. Anything else?” 

“What do you call a war of one?” 

Startled, everyone turns to Amy, who, like them, is staring wide-eyed at the Doctor. There's a small frown on his face once again, but this time, his eyes are half open, if unfocused. It looks like Jack's presence is helping, even though he's just standing behind the ring of chairs. 

“I don't know. What do you call a war of one?” Amy asks him, brushing his hair away from his forehead, but the Doctor just blinks and doesn't answer, lost in his mind. “Well, at least we can understand him now.” 

“So, what's the progress?” Jack asks when Owen leaves to order their food, so Tosh reports about the new scans she's running and Ianto goes to make some fresh coffee and tea. 

Gwen follows him, bringing the old tray and abandoned cups, which he accepts with a nod. 

“Everything alright?” she asks him softly, and, after a moment, Ianto sighs and lets his shoulders slump the tiniest bit. 

“Not really. The Doctor's supposed to be Torchwood's greatest enemy, according to Queen Victoria's own orders upon its foundation. _The Doctor_ is the reason Torchwood was created. But Jack seems convinced he's the best thing that could happen to Earth, and that it doesn't matter how evil this Master is supposed to be. If the Doctor trusts him, Jack will trust him to fix the situation too, no matter how much he _knows_ he's not to be trusted,” he explains, going through the motions of preparing the pots, which Gwen knows actually helps him calm down. “I can't understand _why._ After what happened to Lisa—” he starts, though he cuts himself as soon as the name goes past his lips. 

“Hey, it's alright. You don't have to trust the Master. Just trust he knows what he's doing. Once this thing with the Rift is fixed, he'll leave and never come back again,” Gwen tries to reassure him, even though she knows she'll have no luck with it. 

Jack's the one that usually gets through Ianto's thick skull, and this topic is actually a really tough one to deal with. But still, Gwen tries, because Ianto's her friend and she really doesn't want to see him down. 

He takes a deep breath, staring into nothingness for a moment, before finally sighing again and nodding. 

He doesn't like it, but he'll take it. That's the best they could hope for. 

“Now, any ideas on how we can get Captain Hotness to stick close to the Master, so we can fix him faster and be rid of him?” she asks, trying to put as much humor in the request as she can, and Ianto turns to her with a lifted eyebrow. 

“Captain Hotness?” 

“Amy's words, not mine,” she answers, and, finally, Ianto smiles. 

“Can't say I disagree.” 

“Me neither. So, ideas? Because I don't think I can get them to sit together without bloodshed.” 

“You'd need a distraction for that, or Jack will just lock himself in the office or work on the consoles until he drops,” Ianto comments, returning his attention to the drinks while Gwen ponders that thought. 

“Well, seeing how the Master is not well enough to actually do anything of profit, what do you suggest? Movie night?” 

It won't be the first movie night they have at the Hub. They happen every now and then, when they have to run tests or scans and have too little time to go home for food or rest. Usually, they just eat together and chat, but occasionally they will squeeze in the couch for a movie or some episode of a sitcom or anything of the like. The issue is just how _picky_ Jack can be with movies, refusing anything historical or sci-fi in order to 'preserve his sanity'. Up until the Abaddon incident, they'd just thought him very peculiar, or, in Owen's words, 'anal' about it, but now that the whole team knows he's from the future, it makes a lot more sense. 

“Do we have anything in the Hub that would keep _both of them_ busy enough not to remember who's sitting next to them?” she adds after pondering that thought some more. 

They have already watched the few DVDs they have around, after all, and, whenever they know there's going to be a long night waiting for them, someone brings one of their own from their home and takes it back after, so that leaves their collection rather poor. 

“I may have something,” Ianto answers with a mysterious grin, and Gwen can't help her own excited smile. 

She's tasked with preparing a tray with cups and the drinks and some snacks while he goes fetch it, and, when he returns, Gwen just _has_ to laugh. 

“Oh my God. It's genius! How come you brought this movie today? You know how Jack is about these,” she asks him, turning the case around so she can read through the synopsis, despite already knowing what it is about. 

“I bought it for my nephew. Tomorrow's his birthday, and this one was a favorite of mine when I was younger,” he explains, picking the tray and making his way back to the couch. 

“You have a nephew?” she questions, startled, and Ianto just nods. “You never told us.” 

“You never asked,” he retorts, though his grin tells her he's teasing. “A nephew and a niece, actually. Their father is a jackass.” 

“Your brother?” 

“No, thank God,” he answers with an eyeroll, waiting while Gwen fetches a laptop to play the movie in. 

“Ah, so it's your sister then,” she hums with a nod, catching up to him so they can join the others at the couch. “Did you watch the movie with her?” 

“I don't have siblings, Gwen,” he tells her nonchalantly, but Gwen feels her stomach fall. 

“Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up,” she apologizes, cursing herself in her brain for how insensitive she'd been. 

Then again, it isn't really her fault she didn't know Ianto's sister was dead— 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, genuinely confused, and Gwen stops in her tracks, looking deep into his eyes. 

“Your… Your sister is alive?” 

“I don't have a sister. Never have,” he answers calmly, though there's a hint of worry in his eyes. “Are you alright?” 

“Ianto. If you don't have siblings, how come you have a nephew and a niece?” she asks slowly, remembering a comment Andy made when Torchwood had gone down to investigate the latest mangled corpse. 

He'd asked if Torchwood had managed to ID the victims, because one man had just walked in the afternoon before, looking for someone he couldn't remember but that he was sure had gone missing from his life. She had told him they didn't have anything yet, but how she didn't think it was related, and he'd agreed. After all, Andy had said the man had been drunk, if not so much that they would've thought he should be forgetting about his family or friends, and how he'd stopped those comments once he'd sobered up after a night at the station. 

Andy had just been a bit paranoid, what with the weird things happening at Cardiff. It hadn't been anything else. 

But now, watching as Ianto tries to find an answer to her question, Gwen thinks they might have just found out _why_ they can't ID the victims. 

“Oh, God,” Ianto manages to say, eyes wide, and, pursing her lips, Gwen takes point as they rejoin the others at the couch. 

The Doctor is sitting up between Amy and Rory, wrapped up like a grumpy child, and Owen has reclaimed his chair, while Jack stands at his side and listens to the end of his report. 

“—nothing new. Again. No ID, no way to tell a cause of death when half of the heart belongs to a seventy-year-old and the other half to a teenager, and don't get me started on the brain.” 

“I think I know,” Gwen tells them, stopping at Jack's side and clutching the laptop and DVD in her hands, while Ianto puts the tray on the table. “I think I know how we can ID the victims.” 

“How? Their DNA is not in any database in the planet,” Owen asks, frowning with a frustrated scowl. 

“That's because they never existed. Or everyone forgot them,” she answers with a grimace, and turns when she hears Ianto sigh. 

“I have a niece and a nephew. Their father is not my brother. They don't have a mother. And I _never_ had any siblings,” he explains with an attempt at seriousness and calm, but the way he quickly looks at Jack, and how Jack grabs his shoulders tell Gwen he is far more rattled than he lets them know. “How is that possible?” 

Jack squeezes his shoulders for a moment, grimacing, before steeling himself and stepping away, turning towards the Doctor. 

“You called the temporal void a Neverwere, Master. What are they? Can they erase people from existence?” 

“No, no, it's not just a crack, it's _a crack._ Not a crack in the wall, it isn't in the wall at all! It's a spatiotemporal fissure,” the Doctor answers, and while Rory frowns, Amy gives them a grimace. 

“Sorry, that's from when I was a kid. Raggedy Man, that crack is closed, remember? Prisoner Zero is gone, the Atraxi are gone. We're in Cardiff,” she tells the Doctor, who blinks for a moment, confused, before snarling. 

“We're in one of the worst places we could have landed in, and the only reason it isn't _the worst_ is because it's 2006,” he answers, lost in whatever new memory that triggered, before he catches himself and shakes his head. “At least he's… he's… Captain?” he calls weakly, looking confused, and, with a thunderous sigh, Jack crosses the space between them and, sitting on the table, puts a hand on the Doctor's covered knee. “Ah, there you are. Are we in Cardiff?” 

“Yes, we're in Cardiff. Now, what's a temporal void? Can it erase people?” he repeats, and Gwen retakes her seat too, listening attentively, as do all the others. 

“What's a temporal void? Are you making up words now? I thought that bad habit wasn't catching,” he asks with a frown, and Amy quickly hides a grin behind a hand while Rory frowns in confusion. 

“A temporal void is what happened in the alley. That's the term they used in the Time Agency. You called it—” 

“Neverwere,” the Doctor whispers, wide-eyed and attentive, and frowns again when Jack nods. “Neverwere don't erase people. They don't erase _anything._ You can't erase something that never existed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Come on, Captain, it's in the name. _Never. Were._ The Neverwere never existed, so they can't interact with anything that exists. Thus, anything they _do_ interact with never existed in the first place. Of course, that leaves scars in the timeline, which would be the bodies in this instance. The Footprints of the Neverwere,” he explains with a shrug, and Gwen frowns. 

Fortunately for her peace of mind, she sees everyone else is frowning too, either lost or confused. 

“That makes no sense,” Owen scowls, dropping against the back of his chair. 

“How could something that never existed _exist?”_ Tosh asks, looking from one to the other as if someone else had the answers, though the only thing she gets are shrugs or equally lost expressions. 

“No, I don't get it at all. Aliens? Yes. TARDIS? Yes. This Neverwere business? No,” Rory answers, rubbing his face before looking at Amy, who shakes her head. 

“If whatever they interact with doesn't exist, how come _you_ are still here?” Jack asks the Doctor, and a tense silence immediately fills the room as everyone's eyes widen in realization. 

“Because _you_ scared it away,” he answers with a nod at Jack, who looks just as surprised as the rest. “You're a Fact. You _can't change._ You must _always_ exist, always _be._ You're the only thing a Neverwere could never touch. So, as it unraveled me, I grabbed onto you and it couldn't touch me anymore. It got burnt. And it ran away to lick its wounds.” 

“Wait, wait!” Jack exclaims, jerking away and lifting his hands, startled, before gesturing towards the Doctor. “I thought that was you! The golden energy and the temporal displacement of the walls – I thought you were regenerating!” 

“I was. All that the Neverwere stripped from me had to be returned so I could be the me who was interacting with you. But that me had been attacked by a Neverwere and wasn't regenerating, so the energy of the past me that the present me couldn't metabolize had to go somewhere, which resulted in scars in the timeline. Disturbed footprints, you could call them,” he explains calmly, though his head slowly lolls onto Amy's shoulder as he blinks tiredly. “Can I have a slice of the pepperoni pizza?” he asks, and Jack quickly puts his hand back on his knee to get him to focus back on the present. 

“So, the Neverwere are creatures that disrupt the flow of time by taking people out of it?” he asks, and Gwen relaxes with a sigh at that simple explanation. 

Freaky, sure, but at least it's understandable. Now they just need to figure out how to find and defeat that Neverwere. 

The Doctor scowls, an offended expression filled with equal parts of disappointment and contempt. 

“Did you listen to _anything_ I said? Neverwere are _not_ creatures, they do _not_ disrupt the flow of time—as if they _could!—_ and they do _not_ take _anyone_ or _anything_ out of the timeline! What kind of Time Agent are you? What kind of Time _Agency_ was that, where no one learnt _anything_ about the timeline or time? And _you_ claim to be the successors of the Time Lords? You don't even know what a Neverwere is! No wonder you messed up so monumentally! _Pathetic!”_ he scoffs, snarling down at Jack in disgust, completely ignoring the way Amy and Rory both ask him to stop and shake his shoulders, as well as the tension growing on Jack's shoulders and his own scowl. 

“No wonder _I_ messed up? _You_ messed it up! Standing there, in the middle of the alley, facing this Neverwere of yours, and what happens? If I hadn't been there for you to pull that regeneration trick, we would have _all_ died!” 

“If you hadn't messed with the Rift, the Neverwere wouldn't be here in the first place!” 

“We _didn't!_ We _fixed_ the Rift! The psychic impressions of the World War I soldiers at St. Teilo's were the ones that destabilized it!” 

“How much stupider can you be? _Psychic impressions?_ Psychic impressions can't trigger the Rift!” 

“How would you _know that?_ You weren't _here!”_ Jack roars, getting to his feet and dragging the Doctor with him from his jacket, the blanket falling on Amy and Rory even as they reach for him with distraught cries and pleas to wait. 

"I was _there!"_ the Doctor snarls, eyes flashing as he breaks Jack's hold and steps into his face, forcing him to backpedal as he stalks towards him. “I was in the middle of _the bloody Time War!_ I was fighting for all of you _disgusting ingrates!_ I fought in the biggest war in all of Time, I _died_ in bloodier ways than you could ever imagine, only to wake up and be sent out again and _again_ and _**again!**_ For Gallifrey and for _the whole of time and space!_ And you _dare_ tell me I don't know the impact psychic impressions of war have on a spatiotemporal fissure? _Hah!”_ he barks with a sharp grin, laughing in terrifying amusement, the tears filling his eyes making them shine in madness and a pain and grief so all-encompassing that they're beyond understanding. “The time lock would have broken a thousand times over by now! But has it? _No!_ And do you know why? Do you know why you _insects_ can sleep at night, away from the screams and the destruction and the _monsters?_ Do you know _who_ is keeping the Time War _locked_ so there is still a universe to live in? _Take a bloody guess!”_ he roars, spreading his arms wide with a snarl, and this time, Jack steps back without the Doctor moving, wide-eyed and with denial all over his face. “Did you think they wouldn't have a failsafe? A Plan B? Did you think the High Council would just let Gallifrey _die?_ Because they wouldn't. Rassilon would rather _destroy the Time Vortex itself_ if it would save him and _his chosen._ He would, he _really_ would. But he didn't count on _one little detail._ That his people, his _pawns,_ those he had groomed _all their life_ to obey his whims, when the moment came, would destroy Gallifrey instead,” he whispers with a grin, and a tear falls from his wide and unseeing eyes. “He made me. He made me _run._ The man who won't die, the man who endures and always finds a way, the _destroyer of worlds._ I was the perfect warrior, Gallifrey's only hope at survival. _And I destroyed it,”_ he giggles, more tears slipping down his cheeks as he slowly brings his tremulous hands to cradle his head. “Choices, choices, _choices,_ but I never had a choice, don't you see? It was always going to be this, always running, always Earth, always the Doctor, the Doctor, _the Doctor,_ because the Doctor makes people better, the Doctor fixes everything, the Doctor _always wins…_ But. But that's not true, is it? There's no winning against the Daleks. There's no winning against the Emperor. There's only _fire_ and _death_ and _Gallifrey falls._ Do you know what it's like to hold your daughter in your arms and be unable to do anything but smile so she won't die in fear? Do you know what it's like to drown in that sound, the heartsbeat of a Time Lord, so _loud_ and never _stopping,_ chocking the breath out of you and dragging you under until there's only _screams_ and _blood_ and _death_ all around you, and everyone turns to you to _save them,_ because that's who you are, you're the only one who can save them – and you don't,” he chokes out, looking up with haunted eyes and trembling hands, no more tears falling yet only serving to make him look even more broken than if he was outright sobbing and bawling his eyes out. “I didn't. The Time War wouldn't have ended, it would have destroyed the universe. And Rassilon – Rassilon would have killed me and destroyed the universe if I saved him. If I saved Gallifrey. So, I didn't. I didn't let Rassilon win. I lost everything else instead,” he sobs, falling to his knees and staring at his shaking hands, the tears still stubbornly refusing to fall. “No more Daleks. No more Gallifrey. No more Time War. No more. No more. _No more…”_

Amy rushes to his side, engulfing him in a hug as he curls into himself, tears shining in her eyes even as she glares at Jack. Rory joins her a second later, tentatively wrapping his arms around the two of them and whispering softly into Amy's ear when she buries her face in the Doctor's blond hair. 

Jack stands there, shoulders trembling and with a lot of conflicting emotions fighting for dominance on his face, before he rounds on his heel and leaves, the door to his office slamming closed a moment later. 

The Torchwood operatives exchange wide-eyed and hesitant looks, neither of them knowing what to do now. Do they go after Jack? Do they leave the Doctor and his companions alone? Do they get back to work? 

Gwen looks down into her lap, at the forgotten laptop and DVD, and takes in a deep breath. 

Ianto might have something with Jack, but Gwen feels like she knows him better, what with being the first of the team to learn of his immortality and future origins. So, once she's more composed, Gwen hands Ianto the laptop so he can set things up and, DVD in hand, goes to the office to fetch Jack. Or, at the very least, to see how he's doing. 

The pizza will be here soon, and, regardless of their issues, they need the Doctor—the Master, as Jack knows him—to deal with the Neverwere. Only, as the last attempt at a conversation demonstrated, they need the Doctor in better health if they are to get any real answers. 

Jack doesn't answer after her first knock, so Gwen makes sure to call his name the second time. 

“I don't want to talk,” he calls from inside, and Gwen presses her lips into a thin line. 

“You don't need to. Just… Can I come in?” 

“… Alright,” he concedes, sounding exhausted, and Gwen makes sure to close the door softly at her back as she goes in. 

Jack is hunched over his desk, fists tightly clenched on the wood, and breathing deliberately slowly. 

Cautiously, Gwen approaches and rests a hand on his arm. Jack's eyes are closed tightly, face twisted into a snarl, but since he doesn't react to her presence, Gwen proceeds to rub his arm as reassuringly as possible, not saying a word. 

And, as she hoped, Jack eventually breaks the silence. 

“It has to be a trick. It has to be _a trick,_ this is the Master, it can't be anything but a trick. Why else would he say all that about the Time War, about Gallifrey, if it wasn't? He's trying to look pitiful, to have us lower our guards, so he can manipulate us after. It's _a trick,”_ he hisses, meeting Gwen's eyes at last, and she tries to give him a smile that is too tight-lipped to be reassuring. 

“Maybe he's just too hurt to realize what he's doing. Do you really think he would have _wanted_ to tell us that? To show _us_ that side of him? Because there, at the end, it was almost like he didn't see us anymore,” she answers softly but firmly, because Jack is right. 

What reason would anyone have to talk about this war? Why would a known enemy of Jack's voluntarily confess to having destroyed the Doctor's planet, when he knows Jack is the Doctor's friend? If this was the actual Master instead of the Doctor with the Master's face, he would have even less reason to do so. Though, with him being the Doctor… Could he be searching for condemnation? Could he be _purposefully_ fanning Jack's anger, as a method of self-punishment? 

“It still doesn't make sense! The Master is not one for penance or _regrets._ After everything he did—” 

“What about everything _you_ did?” 

Jack's mouth snaps shut, the sound almost echoing in the tense silence that fills his office. 

Sure, Gwen doesn't know the full details, but Captain John Hart and all that talk about Time Agents and conmen is more than enough to get by. 

Jack is secretive. Jack's past is mostly a mystery to everyone. And, judging by his reaction, his past is _not_ clean. 

They know that much, lack of details or not. 

“Jack, is it really that hard to believe the Master might have found the right kind of Doctor too?” she asks, deciding to take a bet on that, and Jack looks like she just slapped him. 

For a second. 

“Yes, it _is!_ The last time the Doctor tried to help him, the Master _chose death._ After all the horrible things he did, after the Doctor _forgave him,_ he still chose to die rather than serve his sentence! The Doctor was going to keep him imprisoned, he was going to _protect_ him from any one of us that wanted him dead, and still the Master refused to regenerate when he was shot,” he hisses, hands curling into tight fists, and Gwen presses her lips tightly again. 

_“What about this 'Master' Jack thinks he actually is? How come the Doctor has his face now?”_

_“He was… He was the Doctor's best friend. He died in his arms. His planet is gone, his people dead. There was this war with the Daleks, and both sides were obliterated. Only the Doctor survived, but… He blames himself for it, he says_ he _destroyed Gallifrey, and so he doesn't want to be called the Doctor anymore.”_

_“The Time War wouldn't have ended, it would have destroyed the universe. And Rassilon – Rassilon would have killed me and destroyed the universe if I saved him. If I saved Gallifrey. So, I didn't. I didn't let Rassilon win. I lost everything else instead.”_

“Maybe he didn't think he deserved that forgiveness,” Gwen whispers, and Jack's breath hitches before he looks away. “Look, you don't have to like him or get along, and you definitely don't have to forgive him. But we need him. Like John Hart. Remember? You said there was the tiniest chance he had changed, that he was telling the truth about the bombs. Why can't there be the smallest chance the Master can help us _despite_ all the horrible things he did in the past?” 

Jack paces for a moment, growling under his breath, before dropping against the desk with a defeated huff, rubbing his face almost violently. 

“If it's anything to do with the stability of the timeline, he will. His nature as a Time Lord will either have him run away or solve the issue. And, without the TARDIS, the only thing he can do is help us fix whatever is going on with that Neverwere,” he concedes grumpily, and Gwen smiles and squeezes his arm, proud of him for getting past his grudge enough to let the Master help. 

“There we go then. Now, come on. The pizzas should be here soon, and Ianto found a movie that we can watch. This way, you can sit close to the Master so he gets better without having to talk to him at all,” she tells him, walking out of the office while he follows with a tired chuckle. 

“Ah, food, the way to a man's heart. Which movie is it this time? Because, I swear, if you try to make me watch that _Star Wars_ one more time…” 

“It _is_ a classic! You have to see it someday,” she laughs, rolling her eyes, before handing over the DVD as they walk towards the couch. “But no, it's not _Star Wars._ We know you're a _Star Trek_ person. It's another classic, though, so I don't want to hear any whining!” 

“ _Back to the Future?_ Gwen, you know what I think about twenty-first century time travel theories!” 

“I said _no whining!”_

“Yes, ma'am,” he answers with a salute and a wink, grinning, and Gwen chuckles before she turns her attention to the pizza piles Ianto and Owen are bringing in from the elevator as he looks back to the DVD. “In this 1980s sci-fi classic—ugh, it's _twentieth century time travel theory—”_

“Jack!” 

“Fine! Fine. In this _totally ancient and inaccurate movie,_ small-town California teen Marty McFly… Why does that name sound familiar?” 

“Told you, it's a classic.” 

“Right. Anyway, an American teen is thrown back into the '50s when an experiment by his eccentric scientist friend Doc… Brown… Oh, stars,” Jack breathes, footsteps stopping, and, startled, Gwen turns around to see he's staring at the DVD in his hands like it's the most precious diamond in the world. “I found it. _Hah!_ I _found it!”_ he exclaims, literally bouncing in place with a huge grin that makes him look years younger, before he rushes past Gwen in his excitement, almost bowling over Owen and Ianto on his way to the couch. “Doc! Doc, I found it! Come on, we _have_ to watch it!” he calls as he drops to his knees in front of the couch, ignoring Amy's and Rory's startled yelps, and resting a hand on the Doctor's knee so he can practically shove the DVD under his nose. 

The Doctor looks a bit cross-eyed for a moment before he straightens where he's sitting, once more wrapped like a burrito in his blanket, and grins back at Jack with a chuckle. 

“About time, McFly,” he tells Jack – and, as if zapped, Jack jerks away from the Doctor while the alien frowns in confusion. “What was that about, Harkness?” 

“Would you stop calling me that? That's not my name,” Jack snaps, though he immediately realizes what he's said and stiffens in surprise. “Why did I say that? What have you done?” he accuses, glaring up at the Doctor but refraining from touching him again. 

“Me? _You_ are the one who started projecting. I thought you had better mental shields than that,” the Doctor scoffs, leaning into Amy so that she doesn't glare as hotly at Jack. 

“What?” 

“You're so eager to see this film, to fulfill that promise—” 

“What promise?” 

“How am I supposed to know?” 

“Wait, _wait!”_ Gwen calls when she sees Jack snarl, ready to retort, and the way Amy clutches the Doctor closer, almost smothering him in his blanket, to stop him from snapping again. “Let's be civil this time, alright? Jack, what are you so excited about?” she asks, trying to redirect the conversation to avoid another outburst. 

“Nothing! I don't know why I did that, it was like – like someone took over me,” he explains, his annoyed frown tinging with worry. 

“That would be you,” the Doctor answers, confused yet also curious, as he shuffles out of Amy's grip. “Seriously, let me breathe. Anyway, as I was saying, there was something in you that was _projecting_ eagerness. Some part of you _really_ wants to watch this movie, for whatever reason.” 

“And how would you know that?” Owen asks, carefully putting the boxes on the table before he and Ianto join the chair circle. 

“Time Lords are telepathic. I'm too injured right now to do much, but I could at least sense that,” he answers with a scowl, and Gwen has to blink in surprise. 

“Any other powers we don't know about?” she asks before she can stop herself, earning a deadpan look from the Doctor and grins and chuckles from everyone else. “Sorry, that was rude.” 

“Very.” 

“Raggedy Man, behave!” Amy chastises, poking him on the side of his head with a grin. 

“Not like you are much better,” Rory mutters from behind the hand he's using to hide his grin, though, by the way the Doctor glares at him, he's heard him as clearly as everyone else. 

“Are you sure that was me?” Jack asks, ignoring the banter in favor of more relevant questions. 

The Doctor frowns. 

“Not really. It's hard to tell with you, and it was just a moment, after all.” 

“Maybe you should try again,” Tosh suggests, and, as one, both Jack and the Doctor turn to stare at her with wide eyes. “Is… Would that be too much right now?” 

“I'm not letting _him_ into my head,” Jack scowls, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor, who sniffs disdainfully. 

“Not that I would want to,” the alien retorts right on cue, though he frowns softly almost immediately after. “I don't think I would be able to do more than just find it's point of origin, anyway. I'd rather not try anything as intimate as a mind link with a Fact while all my dimensions and time feelers are damaged.” 

“Intimate?” 

“Mind link?” 

“Dimensions?” 

“Time feelers?” 

“One at a time!” Amy calls, silencing the Torchwood operatives, who apologize more or less sincerely. “Raggedy Man? Are you up to answering any of that now, or maybe once you're feeling better?” 

“Can we have that pizza first?” the Doctor asks, eyes on the pile of boxes on the table as he swallows hungrily. “I can smell chicken. I like chubby chickens. So much fat and meat in one little body…” he rumbles hungrily, grinning sharply, and Gwen exchanges a look with her teammates, remembering the laughter they exchanged in the car when they first heard about the 'chubby chickens'. 

“Well, that turned dark fast,” Owen comments before getting off his chair to check the pizzas. 

“One last thing,” Jack calls before they can start passing the boxes around, meeting the Doctor's eyes with a steely seriousness in his gaze. “Are you sure you can find the timestamp for that memory?” 

The Hub falls silent once more as they all wait with bated breath for the answer. It's not only a simple yes or no question, but rather a matter of _trust._ Jack would be letting who he believes is the Master inside his head, while the Doctor has to face whatever possible side-effects interacting with whatever Jack is may trigger on his injured self. 

Does Jack truly trust the Master? Is the Doctor ready to accept such trust? 

“I am,” the Doctor finally answers, and, taking a deep breath, Jack nods. “I'll need a closer contact than your hand on my knee, though.” 

Jack hesitates for a second before shifting so he's kneeling between the Doctor's knees, sitting on his heels. After a moment to unwrap himself, the Doctor slowly reaches for Jack's head, carefully touching his temples with his fingertips, and the two of them close their eyes. 

Everyone holds their breath as they wait for something to happen, watching the Doctor frown softly as the seconds go by. 

“I think I found it. You've had some cowboys in here. Ugh, keep those memories to yourself! I didn't mean _actual_ cowboys!” he scowls, though there's a smirk on Jack's face now, and the rest of Torchwood snort in amusement while Amy chuckles and Rory groans. “Why are you missing—ah, no, they're not missing. Why are two years of your memories out of synch?” 

“What do you mean? I'm _missing_ two years of my life, the Time Agency took them before I left them,” Jacks asks, frowning but still keeping his eyes closed, while the others exchange startled looks. 

“That's what you'd think, but the movie promise comes from that blank. This means the memories must still be here, even if it looks like they aren't. I'm not sure what's wrong with them, it isn't like I can do anything more than hone in on them. It definitely feels like someone put them a second out of synch, though.” 

“Can you do that with memories? I thought it was only possible with physical objects,” Jack asks as the Doctor breaks the contact and drops against the back of the couch, both of them opening their eyes again to exchange confused frowns and pensive looks. 

“I said it _feels_ like it. Doesn't mean that's what happened. Pay attention. And pass me my food. Oh, and whoever ordered it, can I have a slice of the pepperoni pizza? It smells amazing,” the Doctor scoffs, immediately disregarding the topic, obviously considering it over, to once more stare hungrily at the pile of pizza boxes. 

“Sure. Now, let's get the movie started,” Gwen concedes with a chuckle, taking the DVD from Jack's hands while Owen starts handing out the boxes. 

Well, they have a lead and their new friends no longer seem likely to start a bloodbath with Jack, so Gwen will count it as a win. Now, to see if they can keep the truce until they're done with that Neverwere. 

* * *

“Right. Give it to me,” Koschei orders as he joins the group around the computers, putting the Doctor's jacket over his shoulders once more. 

Comforting as the Raxacoricofallapatorian t-shirt is, he has been forced to switch it for one of Harper's white t-shirts due to size issues. He's sad now. Note the sarcasm. 

T-shirt or no t-shirt, Koschei's finally recovered enough that they can have a proper debriefing, after siphoning Rift energy to speed his healing and aided by the stability provided by Harkness' status as a Fact. There's also the teensy tiny detail of having watched a movie literally pressed to Jack's side, the positioning having been decreed after one too many comments about the plausibility of the temporal physics in the movie and yet more flying popcorn from the others, who wanted to watch the monstrosity that is _Back to the Future._

He's not fully healed, nowhere close, but at least he's not drifting anymore, tethered to the present by his re-growing feelers and, much to his displeasure, Jack's presence. As soon as he's back in the TARDIS, he can use her instead as his tether, and the Zero Room to heal properly, but since the TARDIS isn't here, Jack will have to do. 

It helps that he's unaware of just how much Koschei actually needs him. His pride wouldn't survive such a blow. After all, it's one thing to plead when he's been so badly hurt that he's not aware of himself – literally, he can't remember much of what happened since before he awoke in the Hub, and practically nothing of the alley after the Neverwere attacked him – but it's completely different to have to ask such a thing when he _is_ conscious of it. 

So. Vanquish the Neverwere, fix the Rift, and _leave bloody Cardiff._ Priorities set, Koschei rolls his shoulders to adjust the jacket and takes his place in the circle surrounding the screen. Jack gives him a look, suspicious as expected and definitely not trusting, but aware that, right now, they are each other's best bet. Well, that _the Master_ is Jack's best bet at fixing this mess. 

“Six days ago, we detected a surge of Rift activity usually tied to the appearance of a Weevil. However, when we arrived at the scene to capture the Weevil before it could cause any damage, we instead found a body,” Jack explains, passing Koschei a folder instead of showing the images onscreen, out of respect for Amy and Rory given their reactions to the one in the alley. “Since Weevils use their teeth to rip their victims' throat out, it was clear we were dealing with something else. We found nothing on the database that could give us a clue about the victim's identity, or at the scene. We got nothing the next day either, but… There have been instances of people getting caught in the Rift, crossing through time periods or vanishing. We thought she was one of those, only… one of the _unlucky_ ones,” he adds, grimacing, before handing Koschei some more folders. “That was before we found the next body.” 

Jack doesn't say more, letting Koschei look over the files at his leisure, which actually takes him three point one seconds, flipping through them. Still, even after Koschei has closed the files, he stays silent, the rest of his team imitating him while Amy and Rory exchange a look over Koschei's head. 

Koschei. Maybe that name is fitting, after all. But… No. No, because Koschei _could_ deal with this, but Koschei always had a team, a squad of Time Lords with him, always had _Theta._ And Theta is gone now, both the real one and the ghost, due to the damage he suffered in the Neverwere attack. 

No, this time, Koschei's alone. And the only Time Lord who could deal with this kind of thing alone… 

Well, there's only _one_ Time Lord left in all of existence, so these idiots are lucky all coins have two sides. 

The Doctor would have fixed this by being clever. The Master will by being _efficient._

“Give me all your data on the Rift activity of the last two months,” he orders, passing the files back, and Jack merely answers by looking at Sato, who complies without a second thought, quickly bringing it up on the screen. “These points here, expand. Any other unusual activity in the last half a year? From UNIT's files too, I know you have access to them,” he asks even as he looks over the data from the activity peaks, frowning at the latest one. 

He remembers something about psychic impressions triggering the Rift, which is a frankly ridiculous thought, but this must be what they had been talking about. Still, there's something _wrong_ with that… 

“It's only been _a week._ Why do you need the last half a year? Whatever triggered these murders has to be recent,” Harper scoffs, almost defensively, and the Master doesn't even bother giving him a pitying look. “Also, UNIT? This is Cardiff. Torchwood takes care of Cardiff.” 

“Oh, you sad little man. Ever watched the _Teletubbies?_ You'd benefit from that,” the Master hums after that last comment, giving in to the urge to roll his eyes, though he doesn't miss the way the others startle. “Seriously, none of you? Give it a try, you obviously need it.” 

And they do. Televisions implanted in the stomach? They’re useless, how could someone watch their own stomach? Obviously, no one can. So that means it’s for _someone else’s benefit._ Collaboration. Isn’t that why it’s a _children’s show?_ To teach them to play nice and help each other? Brilliant way to subtly teach puny humans the ‘values’ of friendship and generosity and whatever else. Also, a good idea about how to get good use out of an otherwise useless species. Make them think they’re being useful, so they don’t rebel, while actually using them for his own self-interest. If only he was inclined to such tools of conquest, he would try that one next. 

But then again, what for? It’s no fun without someone to try and stop him. Chess is a game for two. 

“ _I_ am the sad little man?” Owen complains with a disgusted grimace, and there's more than one smirk floating around. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” Amy asks the Master softly, resting a hand on his arm, and he has to squash the urge to rip it out of her grip. 

He has worried her. Both Amy and Rory. The least he can do after landing them in this mess is to _not_ give them any more reason to worry. So, instead of jerking his arm away from Amy's touch, he rests his own hand on top of hers and squeezes softly, meeting her eyes with a grin. 

“Amelia, I promise you I have been far worse and still managed to get things done. At least this time I have a semi-dependable team around, plus you and Rory, so fret not,” he reassures her perhaps not as cheerfully as he would've done any other time, but it's definitely enough to take the edge off of her worry. 

“ _Semi-dependable?”_ Jack repeats with a scoff, but he doesn't bother with anything more even when the Master turns to him with a lifted brow, daring him to argue. “Is this about 'us' messing with the Rift?” 

“Obviously,” he answers before he can stop that knee-jerk reaction, though he immediately lifts up a hand with a wince to stop any potential argument breaking out. “What do you know about Neverwere?” he asks instead, turning to Jack instead of looking at the data Sato just got onscreen. 

Frowning in annoyance yet still knowing better than to push the matter, Harkness decides to focus on the question, crossing his arms in front of his chest and lowering his chin. 

“Not much. At the Time Agency, we were taught about temporal anomalies that they classified as temporal voids. They were events of 'no time', times with no 'history'. They didn't register as time, only as a complete lack of it. They were moments when time had ceased to exist, leaving only a scar in its wake. No one had ever seen, lived _or_ registered a temporal void, but there was always _something_ left behind. Someplace grass wouldn't grow, some statue no one had built, a mineral vein that didn't belong in the area… Whatever it was, it gave people a _bad feeling._ A bit like a haunted house, only, when analyzed with the proper instruments, _these ones_ had a reason for it,” he explains, looking pointedly at the Master once he's done as prompt for _his_ explanation. 

“The Footprints of the Neverwere,” he answers with a nod, folding his hands behind his back and staring at the water sliding down the pillar in the middle of the main room, though his mind is far away – before he shakes his head and focuses back on the present, meeting Jack's eyes once more before turning his attention to their audience. “Unlike what you may believe, time is not fixed. History changes all the time, it isn't set in stone. You just don't happen to notice any such changes,” he explains, stopping for a moment as he tries to decide how to best communicate his next point to beings without a link to the fourth dimension. “However, there _are_ some events that are set. Some things must happen, will _always_ happen, in the same manner, no matter what else changes. Those are Fixed Points in Time. Other events link to a time traveler, and can be a source of paradoxes if they are messed with. Going to Leadworth now, in 2008, could change your timestream, which would result in a paradox as it ripples to all the points in the timeline you have interacted with,” he tells Amy and Rory, who frown for a moment, exchanging a look, before answering with a tentative nod. “We can deal with that later. My point is, changing time is _easy._ It can still be wounded and it has weak points, but Time is far more resilient than anyone outside it gives it credit for. Which is why, while a clumsy time traveler can create a wound in time, it takes a lot more to create a Neverwere. Neverwere are _never_ an accident,” he adds, this time meeting Jack's eyes and _staring,_ seeing him frown in worry as the concept sinks in. “Had the nanogenes not been stopped—” 

“That was an accident!” Jack immediately protests, uncrossing his arms as he clenches his fists tightly and takes a step closer, but the Master stands his ground. 

“Maybe. But you get the idea,” he answers, having expected as much, and Jack grimaces, looking paler, before taking back his spot, arms crossed more defensively this time. “The Nazis winning World War II wouldn't faze the timeline. That's how resilient it is,” he adds for everyone else's benefit, and more than a couple curses and gasps follow those words. “Which is why I'm sure you did something. So, stop saying you did not. Torchwood is known for poking at stuff. I _dare you_ to look me in the eye and say you haven't messed with the Rift or tried to open it even once.” 

And, as expected, all the members of the Torchwood team look away, guilty or chastised – except Jack, who meets the Master's gaze with dawning horror. 

The Master's stomach falls to the ground. 

“What did you do?” he whispers, holding back a grimace— 

“We opened the Rift.” 

And, at that, the Master drops his head in his hands with a long and exasperated sigh. 

“You know, just once, I would've been happy to be proven wrong,” he grumbles under his breath before looking up, hesitant. “Fully opened it? Not, you know, _tried to but couldn't?”_

“No. Actually _fully_ opened,” Jack groans, and, if anything, his team is even _more_ guilty and ashamed. “Before the election.” 

_Before the election._

The Master stiffens, looking up at Jack with wide eyes. 

“Before the election? But that's… That can't be,” he stammers, thinking back to his time as Harold Saxon, trying to remember if the timeline had behaved any more abnormally than it was to be expected— “Oh, the temporal overlap! You actually opened the Rift then? With a temporal overlap _already happening?”_

“It was a mistake, alright?!” Owen exclaims before Jack can answer, snarling at the Master with shame in his eyes. “It was a mistake and we fixed it! The Rift was closed, Abaddon is dead, problem solved!” 

“Abaddon?” the Master asks, frowning softly, once Jack is done calming Harper down with a hand on his shoulder. “You're really original with the names. Whatever, doesn't matter. You opened the Rift then, have since closed it. But that wouldn't have caused a Neverwere _and even if it had,_ the Neverwere in the alley was not it. _That one_ came from the Time War.” 

“But the Time War—” 

“Is time locked, inaccessible. _Mostly._ Don't ask, personal future,” the Master adds before Jack can open his mouth again, turning to the screen as he tries to figure out _why_ a Neverwere that crossed into Cardiff all those months back would stay inactive for this long _and_ still be that well fed— 

And stops, stilling completely as he deciphers what's on the screen. 

The peaks are labeled with a simple name and about a line of information. Sato's doing, most likely, to help speed up the process by giving the Master an idea about what went on, a way to tell apart different activity like 'arrival of plane _Sky Gypsy'_ and 'Rift rewinding due to explosion'. One, however, catches his attention, mostly because it doesn't fit the facts he's just been told about. 

“Who is Bilis Manger and how did he release this Abaddon creature?” 

The Torchwood operatives tense before shame and guilt fills them again, and when the Master's eyes meet Jack's this time, he makes it clear enough that he will _not_ back down without answers. 

If his team is that affected by this mess, by that temporal spike that just _happens_ to coincide with them opening the Rift… 

“He's a timeless man with the ability to step between different eras,” Jack explains, straight to the point, and the Master stills and _listens._

Timeless. Not belonging to anywhere or anywhen, a time traveler whose original timeline has been changed beyond recognition, or who has become stranded in the Vortex. Maybe even someone who no longer remembers where they came from, either due to age or injury. The ability to step between eras can be technological, though Jack hasn't mentioned any kind of Vortex manipulator… 

“And Abaddon?” he asks instead, deciding to get all the general facts first. 

“Bilis called it the Great Devourer, the son of the Great Beast. He said it had been cast out before time and imprisoned beneath the Rift. It absorbed the life of anything that got caught under its shadow, which is how we killed it. It chocked on me,” Jack answers, grinning crookedly with his last sentence, though his fellow Torchwood agents still look uncomfortable despite their own amusement. 

“That's impossible.” 

“Don't say that until you see me without my clothes.” 

“ _Jack!”_

“Sorry, old habits,” the bastard tells his flustered team, obviously _not_ sorry, but the Master merely rolls his eyes and ignores Amy's awkward chuckle and Rory's pained whine, turning his attention to Sato and the computer. 

“Give me as much detail on that spike as you have,” he tells Sato, pointing at the Abaddon-Rift thing, and, after a moment to shake her head back to the present, she obeys. “Jack, _focus._ There's no such thing as _before time._ There was _nothing_ before time, surely the Time Agency taught you that much,” he adds, glaring at Harkness while Sato gets to work. 

“That's what Bilis said. Look, we didn't exactly have time to run scans on that thing, and the Hub was collapsing. And after…” 

“There was no body left. Abaddon collapsed in a bright light, and there was no trace of it when we checked,” Cooper supplies when Jack goes silent, uncomfortable but sharing a quick smile with her boss. “We fixed the Hub, examined some of the victims—” 

“But it was as if their hearts had just given up,” Harper cuts, taking over the explanation despite his obvious discomfort, crossing his arms over his chest. “We passed it as a gas leak, to cover for the numbers. Abaddon's footsteps actually helped with that, cracking some lines and who knows what else.” 

“Unfortunately, the damage to the Hub means we lost a lot of data or just didn't record it. Most of this is from before we opened the Rift, and from some street cameras and civilian recordings,” Sato adds, pulling up some images and graphics. 

“Daemon!” the Master exclaims as soon as he sees the first picture, practically pushing Sato away in his haste to click on the next images to confirm his suspicions. 

“Should we get an exorcist?” Rory asks hesitatingly, turning to Torchwood, and Harper grumbles something that sounds like an agreement. 

“I said _Daemon,_ not 'demon'. Pay attention!” the Master chastises, never looking away from the screen even as he frowns in confusion, noticing the inconsistencies. “Aliens, from the planet Daemos. _Ancient_ ones, by this universe's standards,” he adds, trailing off as he tilts his head, despite the fact the new angle won't shed any kind of metaphorical light on the issue at hand. 

It may look like a Daemon, but the whole 'life-absorption through shadow' thing doesn't really fit. 

“I thought that was a myth. The Daemons, the race that created life as a means to conduct experiments, fated to never leave their planet of origin. Of course, no one could say _which_ or _where_ that planet was, or what they looked like,” Jack adds, more for the benefit of the other humans than for the Master's, who is busy checking over the readouts on Rift activity from before and after this Abaddon incident. 

“Oh, they were very much real, ancient and with such technology that many _advanced civilizations_ thought it magic. They could change size and shape, up to a point, and _of course_ they could leave Daemos. They just didn't care to do it unless it was for an experiment. At least you got that part right. But they're gone now, eradicated in the Time War, like many other—” the Master explains with a scowl before cutting himself off as a new thought pops up in his head, immediately searching through the files for the data on the most recent notable spike of activity, as well as those before the Abaddon incident, and ignoring Sato's surprise and indignation at having him get through her security with ease. “If you want your data protected, set better encryptions. Now, _this_ is interesting. What happened to Bilis Manger?” he asks as he compares the data onscreen. 

Match. Match. _Almost_ a match. And, surprise surprise, _another_ match! Of course, neither of the humans around would be able to see the graphics of energy activity and spikes as _matching,_ but that's because they don't know how to read the fourth dimension. 

“He said he'd done his part and vanished,” Jones answers, straight to the point, while the others exchange confused looks. 

“He's back.” 

“ _What?!”_

“Pay attention!” he scolds them all, comparing the recent readings about the Neverwere appearances and grimacing when they _also_ match. “If his mission was to release Abaddon, then his job was done and he could leave. If his mission was to _aid_ his master in taking over Earth, or devouring all life on it or whatever, then his mission _failed._ Abaddon died of an indigestion. For anyone else, that would be game over.” 

“But not for a time traveler,” Harkness finishes, joining him to stare at the screen and frown at the graphics displayed. “Is it just me, or are these points here and here a match?” he asks, gesturing to a couple of spikes in the 'before Abaddon' and 'first Neverwere' graphics, and the Master smirks humorlessly. “So, the Neverwere are his doing?” 

“Do you _ever_ pay attention? The Neverwere come from the Time War. _However,_ if Bilis is trying to bring back a Daemon, or something similar enough – Skaro, he could even be trying to reach for 'before time', for all we know! One way or another, he's managed to tap into the Time War, in the one moment in all of it when the time lock was at its weakest. Just before the destruction of Gallifrey, at the end of the War. When all the worst creatures were roaming around. If he manages to crack it open—” he explains, though his voice cuts with a chocked sound, the sudden realization and _horror_ making a shudder rack his body. 

_“We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be.”_

Rassilon's eyes boring into him, filled with nothing but _contempt_ and _disgust,_ gauntlet lifting – and the Doctor stepping between them, gun cocked, ready to _kill._

“But you can fix it, right? Come on, Raggedy Man, we've dealt with worse,” Amy tells him, voice cutting through his thoughts as much as does the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. 

The Master looks at her, at Rory's expectation, and instead turns his gaze down to the console, to his hands tightly curled into shaky white-knuckled fists. 

“No. No, you haven't. But the Vortex itself will reach out of the Schism to unravel me the day I let that _bastard_ get what he wants,” he seethes, glaring at the image of Bilis Manger onscreen for lack of Rassilon's smug grin. “He took _everything_ from me. I won't let him take even a _second_ more. Which means we have to stop this idiot's poking before he manages to unleash something worse than a Neverwere,” he adds, taking in a deep breath so that the last sentence comes out louder and clearer. 

“There are things _worse_ than that?” Rory asks, paling, and the Master just gives him a tight look. “Oh, that's the _you don't want to know_ look, isn't it?” 

“You're paying attention, good. You may yet survive this one,” he whispers, making sure to add a grin to it so they know he's kidding, though Amy still pokes him in the shoulder for it, eyes full of worry. “First of all, we need to get to the TARDIS.” 

“Right. There's one little problem with that,” Amy answers, grimacing, and the Master frowns, trying to hide his growing unease. “The TARDIS is gone. We tried to get you to it after the Neverwere, but… There was nothing inside. She was just a wooden police box.” 

“Meanwhile,” the Master groans, rubbing his face and huffing before looking up again to face the humans' confusion. “They're similar to the Neverwere but not as aggressive. They are a split-second differential, a 'parallel instant', you could say. Whatever they interact with is taken out of your timeline, into that differential. It still exists in this universe, you can find records of it, but no one will have memory of it,” he explains, wincing at the simplicity and how much he's actually butchering the explanation both by using English and by adjusting it to fit the comprehensive capabilities of tridimensional creatures. 

Ianto Jones startles at that, immediately rummaging in his pockets for his wallet – and taking in a sharp breath at whatever he sees in it. 

Jack and Gwen peek at it, startled, before Harkness wraps an arm over his shoulders with a smile. 

“Your sister and her children, I assume?” 

“I think so. Those _are_ my niece and nephew. But I… I don't know her,” Jones answers softly, confused but hopeful, and the Master's frown vanishes as realization dawns. “What will happen to her? If we stop Bilis… Will I get the memories back? Will I get _her_ back?” 

“Yes,” the Master answers plainly, firmly, no hesitation, and even going as far as to meet Ianto's startled eyes. “If everything works out, you will get _everyone_ and _everything_ back. But I'll need your help,” he adds, turning to Jack, who looks even more surprised than anyone else. 

Then again, having _the Master_ ask for help is probably more than enough reason to be startled. 

But without the TARDIS… Without the TARDIS or any other Time Lords, the Master is going to need Jack and his nature as a Fact. 

“Torchwood's help?” 

“No, _Captain Jack Harkness'_ help. Don't make me ask again,” he answers, scowling, because it doesn't matter if he _needs_ Jack's help, he's still not comfortable with asking for it. 

Besides, Jack needs the Master almost as much, not to say _more,_ so he just grins but nods – and extends a hand. 

“Don't stab me in the back when we're done. Those always itch horribly and tend to be in difficult spots to reach,” Jack jokes, though his eyes are serious, and the Master merely rolls his eyes and clasps his hand. 

“And don't you shoot me. I've had enough guns for the rest of my lives.” 

* * *

The door of 'A Stitch in Time' is locked, but there's no lock on Earth that can resist a sonic screwdriver. Jack looks almost like he swallowed a lemon, despite the seriousness and focus he's trying to hide it under, but the Master doesn't bring attention to it and so he doesn't ask why the Doctor 'allowed' the Master to have a screwdriver. 

The shop is empty and dusty, obviously abandoned if the 'Closed' sign on the door and the shutters hadn't been enough indication. The clocks all over the wall, however, still tickle faithfully – and out of synch. The Master may not be healed fully, but he can tell as much. 

They move to the back in silence, with Jack reaching for his gun yet stopping himself when the Master snarls silently at him. If they kill Bilis now, there'll be no fixing this mess. Jack seems torn for a moment, but finally, relents, leaving the Webley in its holster as they step into the office. 

After a quick glance to make sure it's deserted, Jack turns on the computer and plugs in the drive Sato prepared for them. 

“Are you in?” he asks into his earpiece, and the Master stands guard tense— 

::We're in,:: Sato confirms through the line, and both the Master and Jack relax, exchanging a look and a nod. 

Once they knew what to look for, it was almost laughably easy to pinpoint Bilis' appearances by cross-referencing the tiny disturbances in the Rift his temporal transportation caused with a map of Cardiff. It was just as easy to know which was his base of operations when they found no spike on his antique shop, 'A Stitch in Time', despite both Gwen and Jack having seen him use the temporal displacement there. 

So, here they are now, only Jack and the Master, to get Bilis and stop the time lock from breaking. The out of synch clocks in the shop are more than indicative enough of the shop being slightly temporally displaced, just enough not to register with Torchwood's instruments. Whatever is creating the displacement is likely fueled by the Rift itself, which would explain the lack of anomaly in Rift activity. 

If it's been always active, it's registered as part of the baseline for the Rift. Camouflaged by simply having been there since the first readings. Clever. 

But not enough. 

The Master reaches for the walls while Jack listens to whatever Sato is telling them through comm, confident in his _partner's_ ability to take care of that while he finds the origin of the – ah. There. 

Once the origin is located, it's easy enough to click the shop's timeline with the rest of Cardiff's via sonic screwdriver. Jack gives him a weird look as he sonics the grandfather clock in the corner of the office, but once the hands stall for just half a second before resuming their movement, his eyes widen in surprise. 

::Jack! Something happened, there was a spike—:: 

“That was me,” the Master cuts through Sato's voice, pocketing his sonic once more and looking around. “I synched the shop back with the timeline, and the flow of Rift energy corrected itself. You should be able to detect it now.” 

“How did you find that? My Vortex manipulator didn't show anything,” Jack asks, confused rather than accusing, even as he checks said manipulator to confirm his words. 

“Machines don't have instinct, Harkness. It doesn't matter how better 'senses' you can give them, _intuition_ isn't one of them,” he answers simply, though he makes sure to toss a grin at the former Time Agent over his shoulder. 

Just because they're working together doesn't mean he has to play nice. 

::Raggedy Man, play nice!:: Amy chastises through the comm, both her and Rory likely surrounding Sato's station alongside the rest of Torchwood, and the Master grimaces before he can stop himself, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“You have cameras in here, don't you?” Jack asks with a grin, obviously having noticed his expression, and all members of their 'audience' answer in an almost coordinated 'yes'. “Alright, Tosh, which way now?” 

::There's a basement that looks promising.:: 

::How are clocks promising?:: Harper asks, clearly not to them yet still easily heard. 

::Well, whatever the Master did, he did it to a clock. I thought they might be part of whatever Bilis is using to manipulate the Rift…:: she explains, hesitating just for a moment, and the Master rolls his eyes even as Jack smirks. 

“Good observation. Learn from her, Ponds! This might not be a useless stop, after all,” he answers with a sharp grin, making sure to look up at the camera in the ceiling as he does it, and earning twin indignant 'oi' and a bashful chuckle in response. “Now, which way to this basement?” 

“What's the plan? You didn't say anything other than 'just you and me, there, now',” Jack asks as they follow Sato's instructions, leaving the office to go to the back and the stairs located there. 

“It's simple, really. You go first, I'll be at your back. Don't turn, no matter what, don't look at me. Once we know the extent of the damage and Bilis gets here, I'll fix it,” he answers with a shrug, waiting for Jack to go down as they reach the stairs, but Jack stands in front of him instead, at the other side of the stairs, and glares down at him. 

“That's it? _I'll fix it?_ That's all you can say?” 

“That and _don't look._ I really need you to pay attention there, Harkness,” the Master hisses, and Jack bristles. 

“There is nothing for me to pay attention to! You don't have a plan at all, do you?” 

“Of course I do. You go first, I observe, and when I know just how big the hole in the time lock is, I use you to close it,” he answers with an eyeroll, once more impressed at the lack of comprehensible capabilities of the human race, despite all previous examples. “How much simpler can I put it?” 

“You will use _me_ to fix the time lock?” Jack repeats, startled and disgusted at the same time, and the Master groans. 

“ _Like I said,_ I need to see how bad it is first! At the very least, I'll need you around to keep the Meanwhile and Neverwere at bay. They fear Fixed Points, and a Fact is the worst kind of Fixed Point there is. That's why they've stayed away from you, despite you being a time traveler. The only thing tastier than those is a Time Lord, but they can't get them under normal circumstances. If it had been my Neverwere, I would've been able to turn it around with just a thought,” he huffs, glaring down the stairs, into the darkness, though he immediately perks up when he hears Jack's sharp inhale and the many 'what' through the comm. “Something wrong?” 

“If that had been _your_ Neverwere?” Jack repeats, and only then does the Master realize just what he said. 

He stares at the former Time Agent for a moment, gauging how much is too much, before settling on the bare minimum. This Jack Harkness will meet the Doctor again, after all. He can't scare him before that, no matter how much he wants to put proper fear of the Time Lords into his immortal bones. 

Besides, Amy and Rory are listening too, and… He's just going to drop them back in Leadworth once they have the TARDIS back and that'll be it, but… Somehow, terrifying them doesn't sound as appealing as teasing them. 

“Did you think the Time Lords fought a Time War without any weapons of their own?” he asks back as answer, and Jack's surprise turns to grim realization. “The Could've Been King, the Meanwhile and Neverwere, the Horde of Travesties… Those were Time Lord weapons. They might've been passive observers most of the time, custodians of the timeline, but they weren't without their teeth. What, you thought the _New_ Gallifreyan Empire was named just because it sounded better?” he asks with a humorless smirk, unable to resist, and Jack scowls as expected despite the fact the Master can see unease in his eyes. 

::Why do you keep saying 'they'?:: Jones asks in the silence, and the Master stiffens before he can stop himself. 

_“You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more.”_

_“Get out of the way.”_

A scream caught in his throat, the Master runs. 

Not literally, but he still hurries down the stairs to the basement faster than merited, especially after his insistence that Jack go first. 

But he can't tell them. This is 2008. He can't tell them about the Naismiths and Rassilon and the Time War and the Doctor's death. He _can't._

And if he can't fight, the Master runs. 

“Hey, wait! Wait! Master, dammit, wait!” Jack calls, catching up and turning him sharply with a hand on his arm, uncaring about the fact they both almost lose their balance on the stairs with that movement. “What's wrong with you?” he asks, squinting in the darkness of the stairs, trying to make out his face while keeping his grip tight enough to bruise. 

The Master snarls silently, curling his free hand into a fist, but takes a deep breath instead, focusing on the crawling feeling running all over his arm from Jack's touch. 

It's 2008, Cardiff, and an _idiot_ is tapping into the Time War's time lock, threatening to unleash Hell on Earth. Literally. 

The Master knows how _that_ feels like, reaching for something he can never have again, regardless of the consequences. He paid the price, higher than he could have ever imagined, than he would have _ever_ agreed to. He lost his planet, his people, his family, his _best friend._ He even lost his self. 

Who is the Master, Koschei, supposed to be? He was manipulated all his life to be Rassilon's last resort, never caring about how that would destroy the Master and the universe in the process. Never bothering to consider that he was using his own people like pawns because, after all, that's what Rassilon always did, isn't it? Only, it wasn't until the Time Lords found themselves at the end of Rassilon's manipulations that they found issue with it. After all, hadn't he been hailed as the first Time Lord, the father of modern Gallifreyan society, the single greatest figure of Gallifreyan history? 

Even the Master and the Doctor had believed so, until Rassilon had stared down at them, gauntlet charged, and ordered them to kill one another so he could destroy the survivor and all of creation while he was at it. 

The comm crackles, the voices of those in the Hub coming in broken chunks, and there's no light in the stairs other than that coming from the storage room, behind Jack. No cameras, no audio, only Jack and the Master and the _guilt—_

“Never meet your heroes. They shoot you in the heart,” he whispers before he can doublethink himself, and, in the darkness, the Master's sharper eyes catch Jack's startled expression and his confusion turning to worry. 

“Are you _sure_ you're alright? You're not drifting on me again, are you?” 

“Don't be stupid,” he scoffs, anchoring himself in his self-recrimination at that moment of weakness, ripping his arm out of Jack's grip. “Come on, we have a job to do.” 

Jack doesn't answer, but when the Master continues their descent, he follows. 

There's a door blocking the entrance to the basement, but it takes just a kick to break the lock and have it bounce off the wall. The basement is expectedly clean, unlike the shop, with its light on and, as Sato mentioned before, full of clocks of all shapes and sizes, some sitting on a table while others stand on the crates piled against the wall. 

::There you are! Can you hear me?:: Sato calls through comm, the line clearing now that they're past the stairs and whatever was in the walls that interfered with the signal. 

Jack answers, asking questions of his own about any new readings or who knows what, but the Master's attention is elsewhere. 

“Can you sense it?” he asks, voice soft and shoulders tense, and all voices immediately cut as Jack quickly turns to him. 

“Sense what?” he asks carefully, observing the cautious way the Master tilts his head at the wall before he starts to make a circuit of the room, trying to pinpoint from where, exactly, is the _wrongness_ coming from. 

“Coming out of the walls. Can you feel it?” he asks again, sparing Jack a look as he runs a hand over one of the walls, because it almost feels like there's more than one Neverwere, more than one Meanwhile, carefully approaching. 

“Alright, no, stop that. You're really freaking me out,” Jack scoffs, both unnerved and _angry,_ and the Master can't help his large humorless grin as he once more turns to him. 

“Funny little human brains. How do you get around in those things?” 

Seriously, between their lack of self-preservation and instincts, it's a miracle the species manages to survive as much as it can. Maybe it's because of their reproduction rates. 

“Stop that!” Jack snarls, uneasiness giving way to _ire—_

The Master rushes away from the wall half a second before a humanoid creature appears where he'd last stood, startling Jack out of his blind rage and into a more focused anger. 

“Bilis,” he hisses, aiming his Webley at the old human with gray hair and dark eyes— 

“Jack, don't you dare!” the Master shouts as soon as he sees the gun, and, more out of surprise than actual obeisance, Jack lifts the Webley so that it's pointing at the ceiling instead, turning to the Master with a befuddled expression that, strangely enough, reminds him of a lost child. “Let me fix this. I can fix this, just let me. Trust me,” he whispers, softer this time, soothing, making sure to keep his expression open, so Jack can see that he _means it._

The Master wants the Neverwere around no more than Jack does, he's _terrified_ of them, but he knows how to take care of this situation. He only needs— 

“A story, that's all. No weapons, just words. _One_ word, at one specific time,” he adds, still focused _only_ on Jack's eyes, seeing his dawning realization and the shift from dread to hesitation, and realizes he needs something _more._ “Remember the Bad Wolf?” he asks, and Jack sucks in a startled breath so suddenly that he almost chokes on it. “You and me, Jack. It has to be both of us.” 

“And who might you be?” Bilis asks, interrupting, but the Master lifts his hand, palm up, to silence him, never looking away from Jack. 

He doesn't like him, he makes his skin crawl, his flirting is annoying… But he has experience, he's a good soldier, he's _loyal._ And, yes, sure, he's a Fact. But right now, with the Neverwere and Meanwhile closing in and Bilis Manger already here, what he needs is not the presence of a Fact, but _Jack Harkness' trust._

Jack stares back into the eyes of the man who tortured him for a year, who hunted his friends, who destroyed his world, who broke the Doctor's hearts… And lets out a soft sigh with what looks almost like a nostalgic smile but that the Master's sure it isn't, because there's _no way_ Jack would ever look at him like _that._

“I was _so_ much better off as a coward,” he whispers and, before the Master can do more than frown in confusion, he turns to Bilis and steps towards him – and leaves the Master at his back, out of sight. “See you in Hell,” he calls, obviously to the Master despite being focused on Bilis now. 

Trust. Well, who would've thought he'd actually get it? 

Still, this is not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. The Neverwere and Meanwhile are crowding them, not yet in the room but tentatively teasing the Fact's presence, seeing if they can actually get to the injured Time Lord and the man who seems to be half stitched to the Rift, from what the Master can feel. He doesn't know _how_ that came to happen, but it would explain Bilis' ability to just step from time to time without any kind of technology… as long as he's in Cardiff. 

Good thing the Master knows how to fix that. 

“Captain Jack Harkness. Do you intend to waylay my master's return once more?” Bilis asks, deciding to focus on Jack now that their exchange is over, and the Master can't help but scowl. 

What is it with people claiming his own name undeservingly ever since he ditched it? First the Daleks with the 'master race', now this idiot for his 'before time' Daemon-like beast. Seriously, it's insulting. 

“I intend to get rid of him, and you, once and for all, Bilis. Abaddon will _never_ return,” Jack answers back, all knightly and righteous and the Master feels like gagging, but holds himself back. 

Time to get to work, unless he wants the tentative Neverwere and Meanwhile to barge in at the worst possible moment. 

“Unless you give up now,” he says once Jack's done, startling him but fortunately, he obeys and doesn't look back at the Master. “You have one chance to surrender, Bilis Manger. Cease messing with the Rift now, leave Cardiff, and we'll let you go on with your life. But this is your only chance. Refuse it or try something else down the line, and I won't be so merciful.” 

“Will you?” Bilis asks, completely unimpressed, while the Master takes out his screwdriver and fiddles with the settings. “Why, you will have to excuse me, but I believe we have yet to be introduced. You seem to know who I am, but I do not know who you are. Or why I should be inclined to listen to your demands.” 

“It's not a demand, Bilis, it's a _chance._ Take it or leave it. But regardless of what you decide, I _will_ shut this operation down. Your attempts to bring Abaddon back threaten to unleash worse monsters than you could even imagine. If you step back, I will fix the rip in the timeline and you will live. If you don't, I will fix the rip in the timeline and you… Well, I guess you could call it 'living' too,” he answers, grinning mockingly, but Bilis is still as unbothered as before. 

“If that is so, then I will kindly refuse. The Great Devourer will return to feast on the souls of humanity, as is his due. And this time, Captain Jack, you shall not interfere,” Bilis answers, gesturing with a hand towards the clocks on the table— 

And the Master sonics them at the same exact moment, resulting in a single tick and nothing more. 

“What did you do?” Bilis asks, wide-eyed and _finally_ looking at the Master like he's actually there instead of just a stain on the wall. 

But the Master is no longer smiling, calmly pocketing his sonic and straightening his jacket – and spreading his recovering time feelers out. 

“I accept your declaration as a binding agreement. Your refusal to cease in your activities is your agreement to be judged for them,” he starts with practiced apathy and detachment, to Bilis' obvious confusion. “Bilis Manger. Your attempts to disturb the Web of Time have threatened the release of Meanwhile and Neverwere upon the timeline. Each life unraveled, thread snapped and rip in the web have been noted and assessed. You shall be held accountable for every single one of them, and be responsible for their reparation,” he adds, tilting his head up so he can stare down at the pitiful creature now staring at him with growing dread and trembling hands. “Moreover, you shall be judged for previous offences, including but not limited to, manipulation of the psychic energy of war victims and the aid in the escape of the creature known as Abaddon from its timeless prison. What have you to say in your defense?” 

“You can't be…” Bilis whispers, taking a shaking step back with wide eyes, completely ignorant of the Meanwhile and Neverwere now clustering just behind the wall at his back, sensing the buildup in the room. “Time Lords are extinct, you can't be one.” 

The Master looks at him, at the trembling and terrified human practically begging for a miracle, and doesn't even bother with a smirk. 

He looks at Bilis Manger emotionlessly, unbothered, _unmovable._

And answers. 

“I am.” 

Bilis screams, pushing away from them and tripping over the boxes, scratching at them in horror even as he doesn't look away from the Master, trying to drag himself away. 

It's so pitiful it isn't even _amusing._

Jack is tense in front of him but doesn't look back, while, through the earpiece, he can hear Sato talking about some kind of energy buildup in the shop, alongside the startled questions from the others about what the Hell is going on. 

“M-My power! Why can't I leave?! What did you do?! Mercy!” Bilis cries, white as a sheet and sweating in terror, but the Master doesn't react, far above such demeaning displays. 

“The trap you sought to imprison Captain Harkness in has now become your prison cell. You are not allowed to leave until judgement has been passed,” he explains simply before taking a deep breath, centering himself – and _unfolding._

It hurts. Hand, Eye and Crown, it _hurts._ Bruises stretch with a flash of searing heat, scars rip back open, blood and artron energy dripping from wounds that had barely started to heal, and the Master barely manages to keep his pained gasp at bay before he can focus back on the moment before. 

Bilis is caught in his attempt to crawl or melt into the crates, eyes wide and mouth gaping in a silent cry, breath stuck in his throat. Jack still has his back to the Master, but the Time Lord can see the way the hair at the back of his neck is standing on edge, how his shoulders shudder and his hands tighten into white-knuckled fists. 

::What the Hell just happened?!:: 

::Raggedy Man! Are you alright? Raggedy Man!:: 

::Tosh, what's wrong with the screen? Why is the Master… Why is he _flickering?::_

Ah, good old human technology, unable to see or to make sense of a being that exists in more than three dimensions. All the better, actually. Bilis is the only creature with the dubious honor of _seeing_ the true form of a Time Lord, and, judging by the line of drool slowly slipping down his chin, he won't see anything else ever again. 

But now, judgement. 

“Breathe,” the Master orders, and Bilis immediately obeys with a tiny gasp, the feeler buried in his brain making that impulse cycle regularly so he doesn't asphyxiate before the Master is done with him. “Bilis Manger. You are on trial for crimes against the Web of Time. What is your defense?” he asks, as is expected, but doesn't wait for an answer that will never come. 

Instead, he twists the feeler in Bilis to review his personal timeline, which has the man's body seize and tremble almost violently as his eyes roll into his skull for about two seconds, before he pulls back to simply ensuring the vital functions are still being performed. 

Well. That's one messy timeline. Then again, it always is with these types. 

Find incredibly powerful creature slash manipulative alien slash strange technology. Fall prey to greed slash empty promises slash words whose meaning is not properly understood. Receive mysterious power slash technology slash control of an army. Mess up. Grow even greedier slash realize the error of their ways slash fall into the other's control. Be discovered. Be judged. And, here it's when it varies, be found guilty or not guilty. 

Not guilty have their memory erased about ninety percent of the time, and are put back where they were found or where they belong. The other ten percent happens when the damage is too massive and they don't have a place in the universe anymore, which results in their simply being erased from the timeline. 

Guilty are punished in many different ways, depending on the crime. Total erasure from the timeline is one of them, which would be why the Neverwere and Meanwhile fill the room as soon as Bilis slumps against the crate, wide black eyes still staring in vacant horror at the Master. 

They don't approach, content to stay close to the walls, the very air darkening and thickening in their presence, all the possibilities in the room distorting in their presence and Jack's, conflicting so much that, had he been any weaker, the Master would've collapsed much like Jack's Vortex manipulator. The poor machine never stood a chance, giving out a mournful _beep_ before going dark. Jack tenses and covers it with a hand, but that's all he does, head tilting just enough that the Master knows he's looking around at the Meanwhile and Neverwere, though he's not sure what, exactly, he's seeing, or if he's seeing anything at all. 

Nevertheless, he's still reaches for Jack, twining himself with the fact that they came here together, that they _are_ here together and unharmed, turning that fact into a _Fact,_ no matter how much it makes his dimensions shrivel and itch. He is not meant to be shackled this way, neither him nor any other temporal beings, but when the alternative is to have the Meanwhile and Neverwhere displace or unravel him, the Master knows which one he'd rather pick. 

Jack gasps, shuddering visibly, and the startled and scared calls through the comm change to calls of his name when he makes to curl into himself as if cold. In his defense, he manages not to, standing straight and as still as possible, as if the Meanwhile and Neverwhere would attack him the moment he so much as twitched. 

They won't, of course they won't, but the Master still has to admire his tenacity. They may not look like more than a 'black mist behaving like an oil stain', according to Harper's distressed voice over the sound of hurried clacking of keyboards, but Jack is determined to treat them like the most dangerous predators of the galaxy instead. 

He's not wrong. 

Which is why the Master tries to ignore Jack and focuses back on Bilis. With the amount of Meanwhile and Neverwere that have already crossed over, they need to end this _fast._

And Bilis' 'defense' was not much of a defense at all. 

“Bilis Manger. You have been found guilty of crimes against the timeline,” the Master announces, spreading his feelers as best as he can and ignoring the way the Neverwere stir at his obvious weakness, like sharks smelling blood. “You manipulated the members of the human organization known as Torchwood to open a spatiotemporal rift in the middle of the human city of Cardiff. You were in possession of the knowledge that the aforementioned Rift imprisoned a creature with the ability to terminate all life in the city and destabilize the timeline. You manipulated Torchwood to release said creature, the being known as Abaddon. That is _fact.”_

Jack stumbles with a gasp, hands flying to wrap around his throat as if he can't get enough air, and the Master stretches despite the pain the gesture brings to nudge him with a gentle psychic reminder that he _can, there's oxygen in this room and your throat and lungs are undamaged, you can breathe._

The cries through the comm are indistinct now, focused as he is on his weaving, the judgement, keeping Bilis alive and Jack centered, but he can recognize the despair and fear in the voices and something about how his image is now completely covered in static. 

What did they expect from an unfolded Time Lord? Better this way, he's not sure what they would make if his current activities translated into his body fragmenting, or losing limbs only to regrow them somewhere else, or who knows what. How do tridimensional beings register multidimensional ones actually using all of their dimensions? 

_… Ugh, please, let it not be_ tentacles. 

_Focus,_ a tiny part that sounds like the Doctor's fourth incarnation whispers from some centuries back, and the Master listens to it for once. 

“Your manipulation resulted in the opening of the Rift, which caused temporal overlap around the planet, rippling through the timeline. You interfered further until the Rift was fully opened, and Abaddon returned. That is _fact,”_ he continues not a second after he fell silent, and, this time, Jack wraps himself further with his coat, as if cold, with a whimper that has the Torchwood team rush frantically and noisily in the Hub, as far as he can hear. “Abaddon walked through Cardiff, absorbing the life of its citizens, unchallenged and uncontested, and you stood at its side, ready to serve. And then, Abaddon attempted to drain Captain Jack Harkness of life, and the life drained destroyed him. That is _fact.”_

Jack falls to his knees with a pained keen, curling into himself, even as the Neverwere ripple like a murder of crows, reaching for them and for freedom and not moving, all at once, while the Meanwhile cluster around Bilis, swirling like frenzied piranhas. 

And Bilis gasps and starts shrieking even as his eyes dry in their sockets, humor slipping down his cheeks like tears, and his fingernails and hair rot and drop to the floor to leave necrotic rashes behind, skin growing pale and shallow. 

The Master doesn't look away, doesn't even flinch, weaving even more frantically and fervently now than he did before, reaching the critical stage of the judgement but still keeping his focus, his _self,_ anchored in the present so his grip on both Bilis and Jack stays strong and unbreakable. 

“Bilis Manger, loyal servant of Abaddon, son of the Great Beast, the Great Devourer. You will forever seek to return your master to its glory. You will forever try to bring Abaddon back to the Web of Time. You will forever fail in your endeavor, for Abaddon cannot ever return. You are a Meanwhile. That is _fact.”_

Jack collapses, shaking almost violently and curling into a fetal position, and, with one last inhuman shriek, what's left of Bilis' flesh melts off his bones, pooling into a dark gooey mass that evaporates into an equally dark mist, wrapping around that shivering and silently screaming skeleton, tightening around it with the melody of snapping bones grinding into dust that distorts the air around it as it joins the mist, coalescing into yet another Meanwhile, immediately surrounded by the frenzied ones from the Time War, which rip into it voraciously— 

With a pulse of Time reasserting itself and Jack's gasp as he jerks back to life, the Master collapses. 

* * *

Jack takes in large gulps of air, feeling, as any other time he's come back to life, like he was almost drowned. There's a strange ringing in his ear, but he's too busy coughing out the dust he inhaled to make sense of it, quickly pushing himself off his stomach to sit on his heels and take stock of the situation. 

The room is brick, with no windows and some crates against the walls, covered in dust. There's only one door leading to stairs that go up, and the only light in the room comes from a sad little bulb that's more yellow than white due to age. 

Someone is lying on the dusty floor, flat on his face and with his hands by his sides, as if he hadn't tried to break his fall. Like he fainted. Or is he dead? 

Jack jumps to his feet faster than he thought he could, and has to stop as his blood rushes to his brain, lightheaded for a moment, before he can approach the fallen figure. 

His muscles twitch as if he's been electrocuted, and he feels as jumpy as if he'd drank all the coffee in the Hub. 

Someone's calling his name, but the person Jack's carefully checking for a pulse, the Master, is in deep unconsciousness, breathing deeply and with his face relaxed into something that is almost calm. Or, at least, it is before Jack touches him, because the instant skin meets skin, the Master scrunches his nose and tries to shift away from the touch without actually moving. 

“Yeah, nice to see you too, you bastard,” he chuckles under his breath before he can stop himself, dropping to sit by the Time Lord's side as he adjusts the comm back into position so he can make sense of what the others in the Hub are shouting about. “Hey, I'm here! We're both fine, no sign of Bilis or the Neverwere anymore. Only _lots_ of dust. What happened?” he asks, tapping a foot to try and burn some nervous energy while he pokes at the Master again to see him squirm—ah, that is, to make sure he doesn't stop breathing in his sleep, of course. 

::What happened? _What happened?! You_ tell us what happened! What the Hell did the Master do?!:: Owen shouts, terrified out of his wits if Jack doesn't mistake that edge in his voice, but he can only blink in confusion, frowning softly, as he stops himself from poking the asleep Time Lord again. 

“What are you talking about?” 

::Jack, the Master's image started flickering before he started with his 'judgement', and got covered by static soon after, so we don't know what he did, but Bilis…:: Ianto starts, as unnerved as Owen, and Jack lets out an impatient huff as he rolls his hand in the air. ::You started… I don't know what he did to you, it looked like you were in pain, but Bilis… Bilis was catatonic, not reacting, until. Until he… Until the Master said Abaddon was dead. Jack, Bilis _melted._ With only the Master's words, Bilis melted into nothing, and then the Neverwere just – they just – Jack, what the _Hell_ is a Time Lord?:: he asks, voice shaking, and Jack gets to his feet to pace nervously, still trying to burn the energy coursing through his veins and making him jumpy. 

The Master stays on the floor, unmoving, though his frown relaxes with the distance between them. 

“I told you. I told you we shouldn't mess with the Rift. Time Lords were the stuff of nightmares in the Time Agency, and I seriously thought the Doctor was going to erase me from history when we first met but he said I was being stupid and he wouldn't do it because he had fixed everything and I was definitely _not_ going to do something that stupid again, but you opened the Rift and _this_ is what happens when you mess with time and the Time Lords come after you, you disappear like you never existed and—” 

::Jack! Breathe!:: Owen shouts, interrupting his tirade, and Jack takes a couple gulps before he realizes just how oxygen-starved he actually is. 

“Sorry. I feel like I'm high on caffeine,” he answers with a high-pitched giggle before running a hand down his face, trying to focus. “I think he used me to make a Fixed Point or something, to set Abaddon's defeat in time so it can never be brought back again. Maybe this is the same thing that happened in the alley, with the regeneration energy, only I don't regenerate and so I'm being hyperactive right now and _damn,_ but doesn't it feel like I could go up against a whole army of Weevils and come out on top! Oh, that gives me ideas—” 

:: _Jack!::_ Gwen shouts and, for the first time since he woke up, Jack _stops._

She's not embarrassed or exasperated or even amused. Gwen is _terrified,_ so much that he can hear the tears in her voice. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. Guys, all of you, it's alright, it's over now. Look, Bilis was at fault and he paid the price. The Master won't hurt you, _the Doctor_ won't hurt you either. You heard him, right? Bilis manipulated you, _you_ aren't guilty of _anything._ Just, don't open the Rift again, alright?” he tells them as softly as he can, as soothing as he can manage when he's already tapping a foot against the ground and stealing glances at the unconscious Time Lord. “Really, everything's going to be—” 

A phone rings through the comm, and Jack falls silent, startled and curious, even as he resumes his circuit around the room. Everyone else is quiet too, so when the tone is cut mid ring and the phone's owner answers, Jack hears it as clearly as if Amy was standing next to him. 

::Hello? … Doctor? Oh my God! Doctor! How—? … Yes, yes, fine. What—? … Twelve hours? But… Well, if you're sure… Alright, I'll tell him. See you in twelve hours. … What souvenir? Doctor? Ugh, he hung up,:: she scoffs, sounding far more relieved than the Torchwood team had been, but then again, Jack's grinning like a loon too, now that he knows the Doctor's alright. ::Captain? The Doctor says hello, and that he's sorry he can't visit. He says you'll meet again some other time. Also, we can't go back to the TARDIS until twelve hours from now, and he says you'll let us sleep in the Hub?:: 

“Of course I will! The Doctor's friends are my friends. And, well, the Master behaved before, so I guess he can stay too. Only, can someone come pick us up? I don't think I'll be able to drive, I can't seem to sit still,” he answers with a chuckle, bouncing a bit on his toes. 

It takes a bit for a nervous Ianto to come pick them up, and by then Jack is already outside with the Master leaning against the wall, pacing nervously in the alley. He spends all the ride back to the Hub tapping his hands against his thighs in whatever chaotic rhythm he feels like in the moment, but fortunately, Ianto doesn't hold it against him. He explains about how he can remember his sister now, and how all the Neverwere victims disappeared from the Hub, alongside any records of them having ever been there. Gwen gave Andy a call to ask about the alley, but apparently that has been fixed too, with Andy having no memory of anything happening there. The only thing left to check would be the TARDIS, but since the Doctor called, Amy and Rory are happy staying at the Hub instead. 

So, after the Master is left all gift-wrapped in the Hub's couch, Jack lets Gwen take Amy and Rory out to show them the touristic spots and decides to go for a run to try and burn his nervous energy. 

He doesn't come back until late at night, but the whole team is still there, awake and definitely calmer than they'd been when he left. 

“Jack! Come here, we have a present for you!” Gwen calls from the ring of chairs around the couch, where a sleepy Master is sitting between Amy and Rory and looking around in confusion. 

“Can I take a shower first?” he asks, feeling calmer himself and no longer like he's about to jump out of his skin and run around like a headless chicken. 

“No way! We've been waiting for you for ages now, come on!” Amy answers with a bright grin, taking two brightly wrapped presents out of a shopping bag. 

“Wait, you were serious about the present thing?” he wonders in surprise as he joins them, turning to look at the Master, who is finally peeling himself out of the blanket he was wrapped in. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I'm not going to fall apart at the seams. You?” the Master answers simply, not hiding the confusion and wariness in his gaze as he meets Jack's eyes. 

“Like I'm no longer hyper-caffeinated,” he returns with an amused snort, sincere despite his initial misgivings. 

The Master is still the Master, and definitely not to be trusted. But he came through when he said he would, and, as far as they've been able to tell, things are actually back to what they should be. No Neverwere victims, no people missing because of the Meanwhile, no temporal displacement of the walls in an alley. 

Jack remembers Gwen telling him that perhaps the Master had found the right Doctor too. And, when he thinks back to the basement, to those wide gold-green eyes meeting his, open and sincere and _pleading_ for Jack to trust him, Jack finds himself unable to think of that man as 'Saxon' or with as much hate as he assigned to the name of 'the Master' anymore. 

Sure, he hasn't forgiven him, he never will. But the least he can do is think of him as the ally he turned out to be. Looks like the Doctor's trust wasn't misplaced, after all. 

Suddenly, he can't help but feel excited about that 'personal future' for completely different reasons. 

“What did you do? With Bilis and the Neverwere. How did you fix that?” 

“Stitches. I stitched the timeline using you as the thread. You're a Fact. Unchangeable, ever-present, part of the very nature of things. You must always live. And that means that, since Abaddon's death is now tied to your existence, Abaddon will always be dead, so Bilis will be bringing in a moment in time that will never happen. He's a Meanwhile now, that alternate second in time when Abaddon could come back and he would do it. But don't worry, that'll never happen,” he explains with a wave of a hand, shrugging dismissively, and, while Jack _thinks_ he gets it, the others just roll their eyes and shake their heads, deciding it's not worth it to try to understand the mechanics behind such a chaotic statement. 

“And the time lock? Did you stitch that closed too?” 

“Don't be ridiculous. The 'stitches' aren't literal. They're a Could've Been. I made a Could've Been that contradicted the one that opened the time lock, so they're both cancelling each other now, and they will be until the end of time. Which, now that the Time War is time-locked once more, won't come in a _really_ long while,” he explains with a huff, leaning back into the couch and lifting his head arrogantly. “You're welcome.” 

“Wow, thanks. We're not worthy,” Jack answers with an eyeroll and a chuckle, deciding to speak in place of Owen when the doctor hesitates to deliver the comment, obviously still rattled by what the Master did to Bilis. 

Jack is equally freaked out, but at least he knows the Doctor won't let the Master get away with trying to harm Torchwood without a very good reason. 

“No, you're not. But you can say that again,” the Master huffs with a pleased grin, and Jack takes his sweaty shirt off and throws it into his face. “Harkness!” 

“Oh, cry me a river. Anyone up for Chinese?” 

They place their order while Jack takes a quick shower, and, as soon as he's back, Amy drops one of the presents on his lap and the other in the Master's. 

“Open it. Now.” 

They do. 

And as soon as Jack pulls the white t-shirt out of the wrapping and sees the message, he can't help but laugh. 

“Oh, I _love_ it!” he tells Gwen, who's looking expectant, and the rest of his team, who were obviously in on it if the grins on their faces are any indication. “ _There. Now I'm not naked anymore,”_ he reads, smoothing the shirt to be able to read the second sentence under the large _there,_ and, just for laughs, he takes his coat and shirt off and puts the new t-shirt on. “Well, _someone_ knows my measurements quite well.” 

“They're on file,” Owen answers with an eyeroll before pointing at Gwen. “She called to confirm as soon as they found the t-shirt shop.” 

“They?” Jack repeats with a grin as he turns to the couch, only to see the Master growl at an unrepentant Amy while Rory buries his head in his hands to muffle his laughter. 

“This is discrimination!” the Master protests, waving his gray t-shirt as he glares at it, but Amy just snorts and engulfs him in a hug. 

“No, it's not! And we love you anyway.” 

“Amy, be careful, you don't want to squish him,” Rory comments with a huge grin, and the Master protests with a loud 'oi!' even as Amy laughs raucously and wraps him tighter in her arms to stop him from jumping on Rory. 

“Oh, stop that! Try it on, come on. We need to see if we got the size right.” 

“What, so you can change it for the child size?” he scowls, and both Amy and Rory laugh loudly before they can stop themselves. 

“What did you get him?” Jack asks, standing up and snatching the shirt from the Master's hands before he can hide it or his companions can recover enough to answer. 

And, as soon as he sees it, Jack laughs. 

Two pairs of long bird legs frame a chubby yellow chick, with the words _you are all too tall_ written over the chick. 

“This one is _perfect!”_ Jack cackles as he shows it to the others, and everyone laughs. 

“Oh, yes, laugh it up,” the Master huffs, shoulders up to his ears and a murderous pout on his face, and Jack only laughs harder, unable to look at him now without thinking of a fluffy yellow chick, more so with his blond hair. 

“Best present ever!” 

* * *

Amy is hugging everyone, saying their goodbyes, when Koschei pulls Jack aside. The TARDIS doors are closed, and, despite the almost palpable nostalgia and badly hidden hope, Jack hasn't made any move to approach it or call for the Doctor he believes is inside. 

This is it, goodbye Cardiff, goodbye Torchwood and goodbye Jack Harkness. Peace at last. 

Only, there's one last thing Koschei needs to do. 

“Don't tell me. I need to erase the team's memories,” Jack says before Koschei can, as soon as they're far enough from the rest of Torchwood that they won't be overheard, and Koschei's surprise is apparently all the confirmation he needs. “I figured as much. Should I forget too?” 

Koschei stays quiet, thinking it through, before finally shaking his head. 

“Not necessary. You know enough to keep quiet, after all. Only…” he answers, hesitating as he remembers Jack's sad form hunched at an alien bar, and steels himself. “If you don't erase these memories, know this. You'll meet a past me, all in black and with mirrors for eyes. He's fresh out of the _Valiant,_ you'll notice straight away,” he explains, remembering how he'd almost called Jack 'Freak' when they'd met, the same grief in Jack's face reflecting in the Master's own. 

Jack looks curious, but he nods nevertheless. 

“So, act like this never happened. Won't be a problem, I still hate your guts,” he answers, grinning without humor but not as sharply as if he was telling the whole truth. 

Jack may not like Koschei, but he knows Koschei can be trusted – _some,_ at the very least. Whatever he may think, it's obvious his opinion has changed… And, to be fair, so has Koschei's. 

They're not _friends—_ as if, Koschei doesn't make _friends—_ and they don't like each other, but at least now they know they can _trust_ the other to do what needs to be done without being stabbed in the back. 

Now that he's not wracked with grief, Koschei realizes that while he didn't end with a gun in his face because guns weren't allowed in the bar, he should've still ended up with his face smashing into the counter. But he didn't. Jack won't forget this 'adventure', which means Koschei won't end up with a broken nose in his past. 

But that also means there's one last warning he has to deliver. 

Jack has earned that much. 

“He's not a liar. Whatever past me may be, he's not a liar,” he tells Jack, who looks even more surprised than before, yet still manages to contain his curiosity. 

For about a second. 

“How do you know Rose?” 

… Well, _that_ is not the question he was expecting. 

Koschei stays silent, listening to Rory and Harper argue about something while Sato tries to keep the peace, thinking about how to answer Jack's question without giving the future away. 

Finally, he looks away with a sigh and buries his hands in the jacket's pockets to hide their trembling. 

“Rose saved me,” he whispers, mustering enough strength to meet Jack's startled gaze so he knows he's sincere, before looking away once more so he doesn't catch the grief he feels churning in his hearts. “She… She was there for me after… after I lost _everything._ And now she's gone, but… But at least she can be happy now,” he adds, managing to smile as he thinks of her living with her family and the Doctor's Metacrisis. 

Jack hesitates, torn between asking more or just accepting it, before finally sighing and smiling as he shakes his head. 

“I'll have to take your word for it.” 

“Yes, you will.” 

“Ugh, fine. But I'll find a way to confirm what you said, and don't think I won't give you Hell if you messed with me,” Jack threatens with a grin, and Koschei snorts even as he grins back. 

“Raggedy Man! What are you two talking about? I thought you wanted to leave as soon as you could,” Amy calls, startling them and making them turn to see they have the attention of all the others, curious and analyzing. 

“Just needed to put Harkness back in his place,” he answers as he struts back to them, grinning widely as he hears Jack scoff at his back. 

“Oh, is that what you were doing? I thought you were demonstrating what 'puffed up like a peacock' looks like,” he snarks back, but Koschei just brushes his own shoulder even as the others snicker. 

“Keep thinking that, Jack. Whatever makes you feel better.” 

“So, any tips for the future?” Cooper asks as they step up to the TARDIS, and, key already in hand, Koschei hesitates. 

“No tips for the future, Gwen. That's not how time travel works,” Jack tells her before Koschei has an answer ready, but he still takes a deep breath and turns around to face them. 

“What do you call a war of one?” 

“An autoimmune disorder,” Rory answers without hesitation after a startled second, and Koschei wonders at how quickly he came up with it before rolling his eyes. 

“A tactical exercise,” Cooper says when she sees his expression, and Amy perks up. 

“Oh, good one!” 

“And mine wasn't?” Rory asks with a frown, and Amy pecks his cheek with a grin. 

“Shut up, stupid.” 

“Regret.” 

As one, everyone turns to Ianto Jones, who doesn't appear the slightest bit bothered yet still looks away to hide the emotion in his eyes. 

“Fear,” Toshiko Sato adds, also looking away but sparing a quick glance towards Harper. 

“Denial,” Owen Harper says, glaring at the wall, and Koschei can feel the way both Amy and Rory look at him, as if asking him what he's going to do now. 

“Hope,” Jack adds, standing tall and with his burning eyes meeting his fellow Torchwood agents', who seem to perk up enough to at least relax, if not to smile back softly. “What do _you_ call a war of one?” he asks, turning to Koschei. 

_What are you fighting against? What do you fear?_

Koschei turns the key in the lock and gestures for Amy and Rory to go into the TARDIS, but stops just before following them to meet Jack's eyes. 

“Victory.” 

The door closes without a sound at his back, and the TARDIS welcomes him back with a trill that puts a smile back on his face. 

“Raggedy Man, you have to call the past me to tell us the Doctor is alright,” Amy tells him as she hops to him with the TARDIS' phone, and Koschei blinks in surprise as he takes it from her on his way to the console. 

“Do I?” he asks as he flies them to the Vortex. “Oh, alright. Twelve hours ago, right?” he asks, just to make sure, and when Amy nods, leaning against the railing next to a grinning Rory, Koschei looks down at the number already in the phone and presses call, thinking about what to say as the tone rings. 

“Hello?” Amy's voice asks tentatively from the other side of the line, and Koschei grins mischievously. 

“Say Doctor!” 

“Doctor? Oh my God! Doctor! How—?” 

“You'll have to remind me to make this call once we're back on the TARDIS,” he tells her before she can go on, cutting her rant, and, when she answers, the smile in her voice is more than clear. 

“Yes, yes, fine. What—?” 

“You can't come back to the TARDIS yet, it'll take about twelve hours for everything to be ready.” 

“Twelve hours? But…” 

“Oh, don't you worry, Jack will let you sleep in the Hub. It'll be fun!” he tells her with a grin, giving the present Amy a mock glare as he points at the t-shirt he's been forced to wear, and she answers with an unrepentant smile. 

“Well, if you're sure…” 

“Definitely. Ah, and tell Jack that the Doctor says hello and apologizes for being unable to visit. They'll meet again some other time,” he adds with a hum, inputting the coordinates for Leadworth almost absentmindedly, though he stops himself when he realizes he doesn't know whether they want to be back the night before or the morning. 

“Alright, I'll tell him. See you in twelve hours,” she answers with a huff and a grin, and Koschei pulls the phone away— 

“Ah, wait! Don't forget my souvenir!” he calls into the receiver once he catches present Amy's grin, and _then_ finishes the call. “What do you think? I think it went well,” he asks his companions before dropping the phone in its slot – and jumping as it rings, staring at it for a second before flipping it open and pulling it up to his ear with a tired sigh. “You've contacted the TARDIS. If you're hearing this message, it means the safety of the organization has been compromised and Operation Cleanup has begun. Please, stay in your current location so that the elimination of all proof related to the organization can proceed in an orderly fashion. Thank you for your collabora—” 

“And here I thought there was nothing worse than a cheeky Time Lord,” Jack interrupts before Koschei is done and can just hung up on him, and, startled at the voice, Koschei presses the wrong lever. 

The TARDIS shudders noisily, almost throwing him on his face, and, by the time he fixes the controls, Jack is laughing at the other end. 

“Why are you calling? Did we forget something?” he asks, scowling, and Amy and Rory frown at him in confusion. 

“Midshipman Alonso Frame, from the Sto cruise liner _Titanic,”_ Jack answers, voice somber and meaningful in a way that has Koschei's frown deepening – before he tenses in realization. 

_“Oh, so_ that _is what he had planned! I would've sent an anonymous message if only I'd known, a note or something. Maybe I could have ordered him a drink in your name, that always seems to work.”_

The humanoid who'd known the Doctor, in the bar he met Jack after— 

“You finally caught up,” he whispers, turning his back on Amy and Rory but gesturing for them to go. 

“Word travels fast. And Gallifrey is a _very_ recognizable planet,” Jack answers, a sad smile easy to hear in his voice. 

Koschei blinks. 

Jack's sitting at the food of a bed in a basic motel room, probably in the same space port he found him in, hunched over his Vortex manipulator as he speaks into it, the sad smile on his face and his eyes full of pained tears but… 

Koschei blinks again and he's back in the TARDIS, leaning over the controls and trying to figure out what's blocking his throat so he can dislodge it and… and say _something._ Jack said something, he should answer, right? 

Yes, he should. But… what kind of answer is he supposed to give when all he can think about is Jack's eyes? The pained tears in his eyes, the sorrow in them, the complete _lack_ of betrayal or… or… 

Jack is sad but not for _himself._ He is sorry but _not for himself._

“I understand now. And… I'm sorry. I should've seen it sooner. A war of one, indeed…” Jack sighs, chuckling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood that doesn't work. “Sorry about the gun. I know how much you hate those. And… Are you… Aren't you going to say anything?” he asks tremulously, and Koschei can almost see the way his smile fades. 

But when he opens his mouth to try to answer, he finds he has neither the voice nor the words to answer with. 

After another second of silence, Jack sighs, though the new sad smile on his face is easy to hear when he speaks next. 

“Ianto kept a diary,” he says in a quick breath, as if the past tense in that sentence would hurt less this way, and takes a tremulous breath to center himself once more. “I don't know the specifics, but between then and now, I can get an idea. And… Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'll tell you what the best man I've ever met once told me, after I messed up big time. I'm not the one who has to forgive you, but if it makes you feel better, you're good in my books. So, like that man told me, feel free to give me a call when you've forgiven yourself, alright?” he asks, softly, reassuringly, but Koschei only manages to take in a ragged breath. “… Right. But listen, I called you to warn you. I can't tell you much, but you've managed to do more with less so… Twenty-sixth of June of 2010. That's the day the Rift closed. That's the day Silence fell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, the title for this one is a nod to _The Doctor Dances,_ the second part of _The Empty Child,_ and Jack's first appearance.
> 
> I have officially lost all control of this ride, the characters don't listen anymore… I can't believe I had to get Gwen in there with a movie to stop those two idiots from killing each other. Although, in retrospect, it makes sense, given their history, but this wasn't supposed to be about that topic, since neither of them have all the cards on the table… And then _that thing at the end_ happened. I don't even know anymore…
> 
> Next one will have a lot more of Amy and Rory, because I miss them. They took a backseat on this one (though they got their revenge with the shirt, I couldn't stop laughing with that one), but they'll be there and in the spotlight for the next one. I don't know when that will be, since I need to do some research, but at least I have an idea… Let's see how that works out.
> 
> Next time: Another wrong turn, another crack in time, another instance of love conquering all… And another tragic ending.


End file.
